local dilapidated relic

“Do you think there’s somewhere out there where we can be happy again?” Sanemi rests his head against the trunk of a cherry blossom tree and, under its first bloom, accepts that he is dying. 

“There must be,” Giyuu whispered, pressing a kiss to Sanemi’s wrist, “I’ll make sure there is.” 

-

Autumn again, Sanemi thought to himself as he swept the sidewalk of the bakery’s storefront. Where in the days before he’d find nothing but a bit of litter and dust, now the familiar crumples of dried leaves lay at his feet. The ever-familiar first nip of cold, reminding him that he’d better start wearing a jacket when he opens shop, before he catches a cold.

 He cracks the front door open and calls inside. “Back to school rush will be soon. Put in an order for pumpkin syrup before we leave, yeah?”

Genya, who had been wiping down the last of the tables, gave a start. “Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sure thing.”

Distracted. Sanemi finished storing the broom away and flicked his brother on the forehead. “What do I always say about distracted wiping?”

Genya knew better than to roll his eyes. He did it anyway. “It leaves dirty tables.”

“Damn right they do.” Sanemi tapped his fingers to the table. “Finish up. We’ve got another busy day tomorrow.” 

To be accurate, he’s had “another busy day” for the past decade. The family bakery was open seven days a week, twelve hours a day. Sanemi never thought he’d end up as a baker. He didn’t have the look for it.

“Right, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Genya fiddled with the rag in his hands. “I-I’m quitting.” 

Sanemi must not have heard that right. Genya, the bakery’s only other employee and his own younger brother. The one who promised him that they’d always take care of the family together. 

He’ll give him one more chance. “Come again?” 

“Sanemi, I’m quitting the cafe to pursue my dreams and you can’t stop me.” Genya slid his apron across the glass counter, covering the view of the day’s last remaining cake slices.

Sanemi was first and foremost a family man. He was proud to have raised six whole siblings who were well-adjusted, productive members of society. At least, he thought they were well-adjusted.

Sanemi slid the apron right back. “No the hell you’re not.” 

The bakery was a family business. If there was no family running, then it wouldn’t be a family business anymore, now would it?

Genya was, understandably, frustrated. “I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.” 

“And I’m telling you, you are not quitting.” Sanemi went back to closing up the register. He understood why Genya wanted to leave. Making cookies and itsy bitsy pastries all day wasn’t exactly Sanemi’s life calling either.

Even still, for the past decade Sanemi got up at the crack of dawn and ran the store until well past duskfall. No college, no prospects, just bakes. There was a heavy pocket of air in his chest as cleared out the tip jar. 

“I don’t want to be stuck making coffees for the rest of my life. I want to cook!” Genya balled his hands into fists. He tried to put on a brave face, but it just ended up making him look a bit puffy. 

Sanemi shut the register with a firm click. “And what makes you think you can do that?”

Genya did his best not to fold. “Well, Tanjiro said–“

Sanemi scoffed. “That kid is a terrible influence on you.”  

“We’re twenty.”

“Alright, that infant is a terrible influence on you.” Sanemi crossed his arms. “With what money can we afford to put you through culinary school? We can barely afford rent every month and you think you have the option to stop working?”

Genya, who had held back until now, finally dropped the bombshell. “I got a scholarship!” 

“I’m-” Sanemi began angrily, but then finished processing Genya’s words- “very proud of you. Good job.” 

Well that worked at shutting his little brother up. Genya’s eyes were as wide as saucers as Sanemi gave him a hearty pat on the back. What was he so surprised about? Sure, Sanemi was a hardass but that was only because he wanted his siblings to succeed in life. He didn’t actually want Genya to be stuck working somewhere he didn’t like. However-

“There’s still no way I can run the business by myself. I can’t brew for shit.”

Genya put his finger up, as if to say “not so fast.” Out from his back pocket he produced a rolled up paper which, once unfurled, read “HELP WANTED.” 

Sanemi eyed the bold font with uneasy skepticism. “Really?” 

“You didn’t see all of it. There’s more.” Genya smoothed out a curled corner of the paper, revealing additional text. “NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY.” 

Genya was looking mighty impressed with himself. Sanemi snatched the makeshift sign, shaking his head as he read it over again. It was handdrawn, very neat. Sanemi knew his siblings well; there was no way Genya could whip something like this up at the last minute. He must have thought for a long time before confronting Sanemi about this. 

Hell, being able to confront Sanemi at all was a feat. 

Sanemi knew what the right decision was. It wasn’t even his decision to make, really. But as the closest sibling in age, Genya often felt like the only one Sanemi could really talk to without feeling like a substitute father figure. So excuse him if he felt some type of way about being left behind on such short notice. 

Sanemi paused. “Wait, how many days’ notice are you giving me?”

“Notice?” Genya tilted his head like he was twelve again, staring at an impossible homework problem. “What’s that?” 

-

The ensuing week was filled with tight-lipped regulars telling reassuring lies as they sipped on burnt coffee. Sanemi appreciated that they were trying to make him feel better, but drinking fresh hot incompetence was starting to wear on most customers by day three. It was a miracle anyone was even ordering coffee by day seven.

Trying to work the bakery solo for the first time in years was not ideal. It wasn’t his fault no one applied for the open job. So what if Sanemi buried the “Help Wanted” sign Genya made between a couple of outdated sales flyers? If people really wanted the job, they’d have a keen eye for these types of openings. 

He wasn’t self-sabotaging at all.

A beeping from the back reminded Sanemi of several bread loaves he’d forgotten. By the time he got back from those, there was a line out the door. Was the bakery always this busy? He looked at the clock, the first time he’s been able to all day. Three o’clock in the afternoon. 

He called out into the crowd. “How many of you are here for just coffee?” 

A little over half of the customers raised their hands. Fantastic.

Sanemi chucked his oven mitts under the counter and resumed his position at the register. “Alright, next up. What can I get ya?”

“All by yourself? That’s rare.” One of the bakery’s longtime regulars, Shinobu, mused as she looked around.

“Genya quit.” Sanemi must have said that line about twenty times now. “So your coffee is now made by me.”

From all the reactions he’s gotten (a lot of sympathy, a few “good for him”s, one “he doesn’t look like much of a chef,” whatever that meant), Shinobu was the only one to laugh right in his face. 

“I don’t know what’s funnier, you as the barista or the fact that you don’t even think you need the help.” She totally saw through his poster-hiding plot. “All these people are waiting for drinks?”

“Caffeine addiction is a real epidemic.” Sanemi shrugged. “I must’ve made about a hundred cups already today.”

Shinobu let out a low whistle. “And people are coming back?” 

“Do you want your coffee or what?” One extra large iced black coffee, no sugar. Thank goodness it was an easy order. 

Sanemi moved to grab the coffee pot, but she held her hand up to stop him. “I’m good. If I wanted to die from poisoning, I would have done it myself.” 

All that time in pharmaceutical school made her awfully creative with her insults. Before Sanemi could return the favor, or at least cuss her out a bit, she left. He didn’t even have time to shout at her as the next customer was already waiting.

“Hi, could I get a small oat milk latte with two extra pumps of hazelnut syrup?” The customer waited a beat before remembering to add, “Please.” 

Sanemi glanced at the clock again. Three o’ four. 

Midway through botching a vanilla latte, something by the window caught his eye.

A stranger was looking right at him. 

He looked to be around Sanemi’s age. There wouldn’t normally be anything remarkable about him were it not for his eyes. It wasn’t the color, though Sanemi would later recall it was a rather pretty shade of blue. 

No, it was the weight behind it. Not quite recognition, not quite surprise. 

Sanemi was sure he’d never seen anyone look at him that way. Did he think Sanemi was ugly or something? Sure he didn’t have a smooth complexion, but usually people thought his facial scars gave off a cool, rugged look.

Mysterious Guy blinked a whole bunch, then started to stare at the group of flyers plastered by the door. Every other blink, he’d alternate between staring at the flyers and staring at Sanemi, who could only watch from the opposite side of the glass with utter perplexity. 

The fuck was this guy looking at? Did he want to come in? Was Sanemi really that ugly?

Wrapped up in his thoughts, Sanemi didn’t notice the milk boiled over. The first drop of scalding hot liquid on his hand snapped him back to reality. “Shit!” He fumbled while trying to shut the damn machine off, causing more milk to spill on the floor and all over his apron. 

He profusely apologized to the poor customer who ordered the drink, bending down to wipe up the mess. 

By the time his head raised above counter height, the customer was gone and Mysterious Guy was standing in his stead. 

The sudden appearance was so startling that it knocked all those years of customer service training right out of Sanemi’s head. “You, uh- I mean, hi. Hello. Do you need… help?”

The stranger’s eyes were even more striking up close. They looked less uncertain now, but stared with the same undercurrent of intensity as he spoke, monotone but oddly warm. “Don’t you need help?”

A bucket of cold water rained over Sanemi and unblurred whatever fuzziness had been covering his eyes. “Excuse me?”

Mysterious Guy repeated himself with a completely straight face. “Do. You. Need. Help? I was asking you a question.”

Was this guy for real? Sanemi had ears, he heard him the first time! 

This had to be a prank, right? Some punk kid was around the corner, waiting for Sanemi to embarrass himself for cheap laughs. Well, too bad! Sanemi refused to take the bait. He plastered on his “fuck you” smile reserved for rude customers. “I’m perfectly fine.” 

“Are you sure?” The man peered over to see the complete mess that was behind the counter. “You really look like you could use some help.”

Sanemi threw his rag down. “Listen here, wise guy. You think you can come into my bakery and start talking to me like that?”

Three slate-faced blinks. “You have a help wanted sign outside.”

Sanemi let out a dry laugh. “If I knew the king of comedy was coming today, I’d have worn something nicer.”

“I’m not a king, I’m Giyuu-” Excellent, now Sanemi could put a name to the face he was two seconds away from punching- “and I’m serious. I’d like to work here.” 

Did he now? Sanemi eyed Giyuu up and down. Either he was dead serious or he had a poker face better served at a casino. “Got a resume?”

“No.”

“Are you a barista?”

“No.”

“Do you have literally any experience making coffee?”

Giyuu stared at the floor for a bit, fingers fidgeting underneath the long sleeves of his blue hoodie. “The sign said you didn’t need any.” 

Sanemi was going to regret this. He knew he was going to regret this. It was so obvious and yet, for some godforsaken reason, one more look at those damn blue eyes and all words consisting of or synonymous with the word “no” were gone from his vocabulary. 

“Fine.” Sanemi spoke through gritted teeth. “Come back tomorrow.” 

Giyuu was stupid enough to take Sanemi at his word, and smiled. 

Sanemi was stupid enough to find it kind of charming. 

-

Giyuu, to put it nicely, sucked. 

Sanemi was in the back kitchen, rolling out dough as he watched Giyuu up front at the register. Just his luck that the bakery had run out of bread. Fucking, bread, because he had stayed up too late training his new employee and slept through his usual prep hours. 

Giyuu was fascinatingly bad at almost everything Sanemi tried to teach him. Worst part was, Sanemi couldn’t figure out why. Giyuu listened well to instructions, moved in a careful manner, and was not absentminded. 

The coffee was still ass. It took a whole bag of beans and several hours before Giyuu produced a beverage that wouldn’t result in a health and safety violation. Now, Sanemi had to trust him to run the store while he was making up for lost supply. 

He hadn’t felt this nervous since the first time Genya tried to handle an oven. 

“Here is your coffee. Here is your change. Come again.” The man talked to customers like a robot. He held himself awkwardly, too. Not the kind of stiffness that came from nerves, either. It was a certain level of formality that only existed in old movies. 

The ensuing giggle from the customer made Sanemi’s skin crawl. The slight uptick in phone numbers in the tip jar since Giyuu started working did not escape Sanemi’s notice. Just because he was hot did not mean he was good at his job! 

A flirty voice was overhead saying, “So, do you tend to come here often?”

“I do,” Giyuu responded flatly. “I work here.”

Sanemi threw down his rolling pin, burying his head in floury hands. “He can’t be serious. He can’t.” 

The noise must have made it to the front. Sanemi heard an, “Excuse me one moment.” Then, the pitter-patter of Giyuu’s light footsteps. Finally, “Sanemi? Is everything alright?”

When Sanemi raised his head, Giyuu’s concerned face was right up in his own.

“Just. Fine.” Sanemi stared back down at his sad lump of dough to avoid Giyuu’s intense eye contact. That was another thing. The staring never stopped. 

Giyuu, unwilling or unable to take the hint, didn’t move away. “Are you sure? You’ve been back here awhile and you haven’t made anything yet.” 

Helpful. Very helpful. Sanemi reminded himself that he was now manager to a real employee and that workplace harassment was a real thing that existed. “You should head back front. We can’t leave the counter unsupervised.”

Despite being told that everything was fine, Giyuu lingered. Sanemi could read him well enough, having lived through many teen angst phases now. 

“Alright, spit it out. What’s bothering you?” 

Giyuu thought for a moment before choosing his words. “There’s quite a lot of people outside.” 

Applied to be a barista with no experience and he wasn’t even a people person. That latter fact came as no shock to Sanemi. Hang around Giyuu for three seconds and anyone could come to that conclusion. This man was a walking puzzle, but one Sanemi hadn’t the time to solve. 

“Just- alright. Stay back here then.” Sanemi wiped his hands on his apron, trying to make himself presentable enough for the outside world. “Do not touch anything.” 

Was it a good idea to abandon his new employee– a stranger who he barely knew– alone with all the bakery’s supplies and industrial grade kitchen equipment? Probably not. Did Sanemi have any other options though? Also not. 

If Giyuu messes anything up, Sanemi could always just beat the crap out of him. That was the reassuring pep talk he gave himself as he headed back outside.

Before he could leave, though, Giyuu called out to him. “Sanemi, wait.”

By the time he turned back around, Giyuu was already there. Standing too close, as always.

“We really need to talk about personal spa-” Sanemi’s mind went blank as Giyuu’s finger brushed against his cheek. A soft brush. Far more gentle than anything Sanemi’s experienced since… 

He couldn’t even remember. 

“You had flour on your face.” Giyuu flicked the flour dust from his fingers aside. Sanemi couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw something like fondness across Giyuu’s face.  

Sanemi jolted back. “Don’t-” He wanted to say not to touch him but, in a moment of disgusting realization, Sanemi knew it wouldn’t be an honest reaction. “Don’t get too familiar.”

“Oh.” Giyuu’s hands fell to his sides. “Apologies.” 

Sanemi went back out front and neither of them mentioned it for the rest of the day. 

When he came home that night, Sanemi expected to slump into his bed and fall into another too-short, unfulfilling sleep. Instead, he dreamt of an unfamiliar smile and a warm hand holding his own. 

-

Every so often, the flow of customers would slow to just a trickle and Sanemi would have time to hold a real conversation with someone who wasn’t behind the counter. 

During these moments, he’d often get paid a visit from his good (and only) friend, Obanai. They used to go to school together and he was the only one who bothered to stay in contact after Sanemi had to drop out. It was nice to think that someone cared enough about him to visit after all these years. 

It was more realistic to say that they were the only two people who thought sitting around and insulting each other was “quality bonding time.” 

“How are you getting bullied by your own employee?” Obanai snickered, because of course this was his reaction after Sanemi told him about Giyuu. 

“I am not getting bullied!” Sanemi scoffed. A meteor hitting the earth again would be more likely. 

Obanai was unimpressed. “Then why the fuck do you let him get away with that?”

He pointed his thumb towards the bakery’s exterior, where Giyuu was standing around waiting for people to come to him for promotional coupons instead of handing them out like he was supposed to. 

A sudden weight compelled Sanemi to slam his head into the table but he forced himself to keep upright. “If he’s being weird out there, it stops him from being weird in here. At me.” 

“Right.” Obanai swirled the ice in his coffee and took a sip from beneath his face mask. “At least he makes a decent cup of coffee.”

If only his friend knew how much time went into that “decent” cup. 

It’s been a few weeks since Giyuu graduated from his trainee status. With the coffee shop returned to some semblance of normalcy, Sanemi thought he’d also be back to his usual self. Watching the days bleed into weeks, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it months as life slipped him by. Though Giyuu’s skills improved, it wasn’t enough for Sanemi’s life to snap back on autopilot. He felt oddly present. 

Like today. There was a certain lightness as he went back and forth with Obanai, something he couldn’t say he’s felt for a long time – if ever. Years of working in the same bakery should have dulled all his senses but lately he could really feel the warmth of the pastries as they came out the oven and smell the earthy grinding of coffee beans. 

Somewhere along the conversation, Sanemi’s eyes wandered back outside. Giyuu was still standing in the same spot, hand outstretched with a flyer no one would take. 

Enter: a strong gust of wind. 

The flyer slipped through Giyuu’s grasp. He tried to catch it, arm shooting up with a surprising speed, but natural currents of the wind put it just out of reach. The flyer gave a taunting twirl through the air before flying smack into a pedestrian’s face. 

Giyuu winced, quickly looking inside to see if anyone was watching.

Sanemi was, and as their eyes met through the window, Sanemi couldn’t help but laugh at Giyuu’s pink face as he mouthed “sorry” through the window. 

“So-” Obanai rattled his iced coffee- “are you into him or what?”

“What?” Sanemi’s attention snapped back to his friend.

Obanai shrugged. “You were staring.” 

“Only because he’s terrible at his job.” Graduated or not, Sanemi still wouldn’t trust Giyuu to run important tasks by himself. What if he miscounted change or something? “I’m just supervising.” 

Giyuu chose that moment to walk back in. He gave a brief greeting to Obanai (Sanemi’s already told him off for acting too cold towards new customers) before turning to Sanemi. “I have handed out seven flyers. Forty three are leftover.” 

“You know you don’t have to count them, right?”

Giyuu looked embarrassed again, an expression Sanemi was beginning to find rather entertaining to elicit. “You said I needed to be more detail-oriented with my tasks.”

“With making coffee, not-” Sanemi gave up, waving him away. “Forget it. Why don’t you go and count the stock in the back, yeah?”

Thankful to be given a backroom task, Giyuu set the stack of coupons behind the counter and hurried away. 

Obanai was long finished with his drink but he kept shaking the ice in a chastising manner. “So, he sucks at making coffee, can’t hand out flyers, and has the personality of a wet twig. Why the fuck else would you keep him around if you weren’t into him?”

“I needed the help, alright?” Sanemi wanted to list several more reasons for keeping Giyuu around. It made the shop less lonely. He was good at handling grouchy customers. He didn’t act like a wet twig all the time. But those were beginning to sound like excuses.

Sanemi did not like the implication that those were excuses. Because of, well, the implications. 

“Alright.” Obanai held his hands up in defeat. The victory was almost too easy. A notion which was swiftly confirmed when, on his way out, he remarked, “When he inevitably accepts some hot guy’s number because you’re too chicken to ask him out, don’t come cryin’ to me.” 

“You literally do that about Mitsuri at least once a month.” 

“Then I guess I’ll see you next month.” 

Sanmi slammed the door in hopes that it would hit his smartass friend on his way out. Slippery bastard got away, snickering to himself down the street. The commotion instead caused Giyuu to poke his head out from the back. 

“Sanemi?”

Instead of saying something normal, Sanemi went, “It’s against store policy to accept phone numbers from customers!” 

“I can’t.” Giyuu blinked. “You throw them out of the jar every night.”

“Right.” Sanemi forgot about that. “Just checking to see if you were paying attention.” 

Giyuu chuckled. It took a second for Sanemi to even realize the sound, given how unexpected it was. “Don’t worry, Sanemi. I don’t plan on running off with a customer. I enjoy working here too much.” 

He said it like he knew Sanemi was jealous. More concerningly, why was Sanemi feeling jealous? 

“You do?” Sanemi’s brain was still catching up to his mouth, so he couldn’t hide his surprise. 

Giyuu nodded, like the simplest thing in the world. Like Sanemi hadn’t spent all their working hours either berating or fretting after him. “I do.” 

The two words echoed like somehow Sanemi had heard them before. He didn’t know how long he stood there trying to place it. The door chimed and a customer walked in. Sanemi was about to excuse himself to handle order, only to realize that Giyuu was no longer there. The sudden emptiness made his stomach drop, even though logically Sanemi knew his employee was just in the back. 

“Sir?”

“Right, sorry. What can I get for ya?” 

-

In hindsight, operating a bakery for twenty-four hours was a terrible idea. 

“I could’ve told you that.” Giyuu’s voice took Sanemi by surprise.

He must have been talking out loud. That, or he was hallucinating. He’s been up for twenty-three and a half hours and counting. Sanemi turned his head to look at Giyuu, who was slumped over the front counter right next to him. “Wuh?”

“The awake-a-thon.” Giyuu spoke as if Sanemi was five. “This was a terrible idea.” 

 Sleep deprivation, Sanemi has learned, made Giyuu incredibly snarky. Sanemi might have relished in the change but he was, ironically, too tired to snark back. 

The catalyst for their current predicament all began at last week’s Shopkeepers’ Association meeting. The neighborhood stores had all agreed to keep their stores open twenty four hours to take advantage of the holiday shoppers. Not one to miss out on extra cash, Sanemi had no reservations signing the bakery up to join. A thoughtless act which swiftly and presently bit him and his sole employee in the ass.

“Should I make you another cup of coffee?” Giyuu sleepily suggested. 

Sanemi didn’t even have the energy to shake his head. “I don’t think caffeine works on me anymore.” Come to think of it, Sanemi hadn’t seen Giyuu take a single sip of caffeine all day. “Why don’t you make one for yourself?” 

“I don’t really like coffee.”

Sanemi couldn’t even pretend to be shocked anymore. Giyuu was a damn enigma. “That’s fucking hilarious.” 

Giyuu’s only response was a small groan. He could barely keep his eyes open as they strained against bright store lights. 

The first hour after the normal workday would have ended wasn’t so bad. Things were slow, but Sanemi used the extra time to organize his inventory and do minor housekeeping that he otherwise wouldn’t do. A few more hours went by, alongside several cups of mediocre coffee. Sanemi even tried to send Giyuu home, but the man insisted on staying through the whole night. Good thing, because somewhere between eleven and midnight came a sudden late night rush. 

By the time the last customer trickled out, it was three in the morning and Sanemi wanted to fall asleep next to the discounted day-old bread. 

“At least we can go home soon.” Sanemi remarked, just to fill the air. “You really didn’t have to stay the whole night. Surely you had better things to do.”

“Not really.” 

That made it sound like Giyuu had kind of a sad life. Sanemi really wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear about it. Five in the morning on no sleep was hardly the time to ask, but he did it anyway. “Sad life?”

Giyuu curled deeper into his own arms. “No. Just a bit lonely.” 

That still sounded pretty sad. Then again, Giyuu wasn’t exactly Mr. Chipper. Sanemi used to chalk it up to him being shy or standoffish but after working in close quarters for two seasons, he noticed a natural melancholy that followed Giyuu. 

Last week, they were actually getting along for once. Sanemi made an offhand joke that made Giyuu laugh so hard, he could cry. Only then did Sanemi realize Giyuu was actually close to tears. Before he could say anything, Giyuu excused himself and didn’t return until ten minutes later with a slight redness under his eyes. 

Even now, the haziness of the midnight hours laid Giyuu’s expressions bare. His eyes drooped, hopeless. 

Something in the midnight air made it easy for Sanemi to forget his conversational filters. “Why do you always stare at me?”

The question was too direct for polite society but not for Giyuu. “Just to look, I suppose.”

“Bullshit.” Giyuu always looked like he wanted to say something, but never did. This wasn’t the mindless stare into the middle distance that any other customer service worker wore to survive the day. Giyuu stared in a way that made Sanemi feel put on the spot. Like he knew something that Sanemi didn’t. 

Even now, Giyuu didn’t respond. Sanemi’s expletive was left hanging in the air as blue eyes fixated on Sanemi’s own. Though dulled by the urge to sleep, Giyuu’s eyes retained their all-knowing, lonesome look. 

Sanemi didn’t know why he felt so affected by it. He felt an urge to make him feel better. “It’s not just you. I feel lonely too.” 

This, it seemed, caused Giyuu to raise his head a bit. “But you have so many siblings.” 

“Sometimes in a family so big, you feel lonely in a different way.” Now was not the time to be getting into Sanemi’s family issues. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Just one. My older sister.” 

“Do you get along?”

“She’s the best.” Giyuu sounded slightly more awake than before. It was cute how quick he responded. 

Sanemi chuckled, a chorus of his siblings’ little voices saying the same thing replayed in his mind. “You always seemed like an only child to me, but I guess I don’t know much about you. Sorry I never asked.” 

“Don’t be.” Giyuu’s voice was soft, too gentle for the night they just had. “You can ask anytime.” 

With nothing better to do, Sanemi decided to figure out Giyuu’s life story. He grew up with his sister raising him mostly, something Sanemi could sympathize with. He got decent grades in school. His best friend was a prodigy getting a Ph.D at some fancy university. He exercised a lot and he really liked to eat food. For the past few years, Giyuu’s been traveling around. He didn’t say it outright, but Sanemi got the sense that Giyuu was looking for something. 

Sanemi in turn, let it slip that he spent most of his time not running the bakery either worrying about the bakery or worrying about his family. 

“If you didn’t have the bakery, what would you do?” Giyuu asked. 

Not even Sanemi was brave enough to ask himself that question. “I don’t know. I’ve just been here my whole life. Waiting, I guess.”

“Waiting for what?”

His gut told him he knew the answer already but his mind was drawing one huge blank. “Dunno. Just waiting.” 

Surely it was time to go home by now but neither of them made a move. The first hints of sunlight threatened to break through at any moment. The world slowed to a near stop, and the stillness of it all sent a shiver through Sanemi. 

“Cold?” Giyuu muttered. 

Sanemi hummed. 

If Giyuu weren’t so tired, maybe he wouldn’t have reached his hand out. If Sanemi weren’t so tired, maybe he wouldn’t have taken it. 

But they were tired and now, they were holding hands. 

The sudden touch brought an overwhelming sense of comfort to Sanemi. He was just blinking slowly before but now that he’s closed his eyes again it’s felt impossible to keep them open. Through bleary vision, Sanemi saw a peek of Giyuu’s blue eyes gazing back at him. 

“I had a dream before, like this but… you were happy.”

Giyuu’s thumb brushed over Sanemi’s knuckle. Like a silent lullaby, Sanemi was pushed towards the cusp of sleep. Before he finally drifted off, he swore he heard Giyuu reply, soft and sad, “I was happy.” 

-

Ever since the stupid awake-a-thon, Sanemi’s been sick. An oddity, as he’s been the picture of health for as long as he could remember. People thought that being surrounded by children and working all the time would mean it was easy to catch something, but that didn’t apply to Sanemi. 

He couldn’t afford to be sick and so he wasn’t. Simple as that. 

This little rule of the universe was working perfectly well for over twenty years, and for some reason his body has now decided to fail him. 

“I think you handed me the wrong order.” One of his customers grimaced at a latte clearly meant for the person behind. 

Sanemi couldn’t even wheeze out an apology as he switched the cups and his focus back to the register. Giyuu was supposed to be dealing with the coffee but Sanemi found himself alone once more. 

Worse than being sick, Sanemi had gone and got his only employee sick as well. 

When Giyuu came back the next day, it was like he’d been back from a funeral. Sanemi thought he may have come in just to quit. With sunken eyes and a twinge of pain in his voice, Giyuu instead informed him that he needed to take a few days off for personal reasons. Tough a boss as he may be, Sanemi wasn’t cruel. He granted Giyuu’s request, even if it meant dealing with a full bakery on his own for a bit. 

Right on cue, his symptoms began to act up as he felt a sharp ache in his chest. 

It’d been like this for days. 

After their twenty-four hour nightmare shift ended, Sanemi awoke with a pounding in his head that wouldn’t go away. He didn’t know how long it’d been since he fell asleep on his own front counter, but the sun was beaming in through the windows.

Giyuu had long since gone home, but did Sanemi the courtesy of closing up shop. He’d watched Sanemi do it many times before so that wasn’t surprising. Giyuu’s patterned jacket draped around Sanemi’s shoulders– that was surprising. He blamed its thick material and earthen smell for the sudden heatflash he experienced. 

Sanemi left it atop Giyuu’s apron and dragged his exhausted ass back home to sleep for the rest of the day. He looked at the apron now, folded neatly beside a tower of paper cups, with a certain hollowness. The heat and the pounding did not go away.

Should he be working while sick? No, but has he gotten away with doing so before? Absolutely. So until the health department decided to shut him down, Sanemi would just don a face mask and keep working. 

“There was a blueberry muffin that was supposed to go with this.” From across the room, Sanemi’s ears attuned to the customer’s complaint. 

He handed over the missing item and was about to move on to his next task– 

“Tch. That’s the second time you’ve got it wrong. Not losing your touch now, are we Sanemi?” 

Upon hearing his name, Sanemi whipped around to find one of his more bedazzled regulars, Tengen, smirking at him behind those sunglasses he always wore even though it was daytime. 

“Oh, it’s just you.” Spared Sanemi from having to actually apologize to a customer. 

Tengen feigned offense. “Hey, I’m still a paying customer-” Despite Sanemi’s best efforts- “and I’ll have you know that I’m actually here today because the girls wanted coffee before we set off to Milan for-”

Tengen was some kind of entrepreneur playboy rich kid. At least, that’s what Sanemi gleaned from all his far-fetched tales. It wasn’t like he had time to listen while he was working. He thought the brown bear method of ignoring Tengen would make him go away but it had yet to work. At least he always tipped well. Practically speaking, Tengen didn’t even come in as frequently as the other regulars, but c’mon. How the fuck was Sanemi supposed to forget a guy like that?

“-and that’s why I need a blueberry muffin instead of the usual cherry. Hey, are you good? You look fuckin’ terrible.” 

“It’s just a cold. I’ll live.” Sanemi waited for Tengen to take the blueberry-not-cherry muffin he’d been holding out for the last five minutes. 

Despite his order being fulfilled, Tengen wasn’t budging. “It’s definitely not a cold. Say, where’s that new kid you got workin’ for ya?”

Sanemi felt another dizzy spell come on. He gripped the edge of the counter in hopes that his vision would stabilize. He did not need to be seeing double of someone as visually loud as Tengen. “He’s out.”

Tengen gave a hearty laugh. “Of course! You miss him. Heh, I know a lovesick fool when I see one.” 

A what-sick what now. “Excuse me?” 

“Playing dense are we? Alright, I’ll spell it out for you.” Tengen smirked. “Has your heart been beating very fast? Cheeks flushed red for no reason whatsoever? Are you lightheaded whenever you think about him?” 

“Yes.” Sanemi admitted through gritted teeth. “Because you’re describing symptoms of being ill.” 

Tengen shook his head before grandiosely gesturing towards himself. “That’s what I told myself the first three times too. Now look at me.” 

As a result of only half-listening to Tengen whenever he came in, Sanemi didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking at. 

Interpreting his silence as acquiescence to his infinite wisdom, Tengen nodded to himself in satisfaction before patting Sanemi once on the shoulder. “Go for it, kid. Even the unflashy deserve happiness in life.” 

It was astounding how Tengen’s insults always circled back to a self-compliment. 

Sanemi had hoped the usual rush of customers would distract him, but it seemed Tengen left right as the late afternoon lull arrived. It was almost spring. The breezes didn’t feel as biting and the first buds of cherry blossoms were on the cusp of full bloom. A few cyclists rode by, light scarves trailing behind them, unburdened by the heavy winter layers that slowed them just a few weeks ago. 

Lovesick. Sanemi scoffed. He picked up a rag and started to wipe down the tables. What a ridiculous thought.

Love was one of those things that Sanemi set on a shelf in his mind to gather dust a long time ago. Right up there with college plans, tucked away next to unresolved parent issues. He didn’t have time for it and he couldn’t afford it. Two different ways of saying the same thing.

He loved his siblings and they loved him back, and that was all Sanemi needed to be content. So what if he never got to hold hands down the street or kiss somebody hello? It was probably best he never experienced something like that in the first place.

If he never experienced it, he wouldn’t need to know what he was missing when it inevitably went away.

Except–

Sometimes he thinks he’s felt the arms of someone wrap around his waist before, holding onto it like something special. He thinks he’s heard the ghost of sweet nothings whispered against his ear when the store radio was set too low. There were nights when he’d sleep, and he’d see an all-too-unfamiliar shadow with open arms waiting for him in a not-quite-familiar room. 

He thinks he does know what love is supposed to feel like, but he isn’t quite sure how.

And Giyuu? Sanemi wrinkled his nose. 

There was no way. So what, if he saved Sanemi from having to work at the bakery alone? Surely someone competent would have come along. He didn’t even know why Giyuu bothered to stick around. It was clear he didn’t enjoy being a barista. The guy didn’t even like coffee! There was no reason for him to be giving his all day after day.

It wasn’t like Sanemi was exceptionally pleasant to be around. 

He wasn’t nice about giving orders. His criticism was blunt, temper short. 

But everyday, Giyuu showed up for work, moving towards a destination Sanemi could not see. Staying with Sanemi through the roughest days of work and never complaining. Always offering a way to support and be helpful, even if he didn’t know what that meant. 

And the stares… As Sanemi thought back through all their interactions it dawned on him the true meaning behind them. Longing. 

Whatever this strange tension was between them, Giyuu must have picked up on it much earlier than Sanemi had. Was he waiting for Sanemi all along?

There was a change in the light as the sun dipped behind a cloud. Sanemi looked through the window and was met with his own reflection. Staring at himself, he recognized the same longing look that Giyuu had worn for him ever since that first day. 

And if he now wore it too, could it mean he also felt the same longing? 

The sun re-emerged in all its usual splendor, shining its radiance directly into Sanemi’s eyes. He cursed at the sudden blinding light and the ensuing migraine it triggered. Fuck. If Tengen was right and he really was just lovesick, then this feeling might be terminal.

A fresh bout of sweat covered his entire body. His stomach churned with the newfound feelings he was grappling with, so much so that he was seriously considering shutting down shop for the day. 

If only Giyuu were here. He hated himself for having the thought. He didn’t like to rely on anybody, yet even in a short time and with no talent for it Giyuu’s made himself indispensable. 

The heartache intensified tenfold, causing Sanemi to drop the rag he was holding as he scrambled for purchase against the back of a chair. He couldn’t really hear anything– not the clock ticking on the wall, the cars honking outside, or the muffled voice shouting his name. 

His name? 

Sanemi tried to blink his eyes open. He hadn’t realized they closed. It felt like someone shoved cotton up his ears into his head. His arms and legs were downright gelatinous as he tried to place himself.

“Sanemi, no! Please, not again…”

Strands of black hair. That jacket that kept him so warm that day. “Giyuu?” Sanemi’s own voice sounded foreign to him, with how softly it whispered. 

Two hands grabbed at his shoulders and pulled him in tight. 

“I’ve only just found you, please don’t leave me alone again…” 

Sanemi wanted to say something to calm him down. Surely someone like him wasn’t worth the panic-stricken voice Giyuu was calling out to him with. 

“S’alright, Giyuu. S’gonna be alright.” The words slushed around in Sanemi’s mouth like he was just learning to speak. It didn’t help calm Giyuu down. If anything, Giyuu’s embrace grew tighter and his voice broke into a sob. 

Sanemi couldn’t hear anything being said, though. In a last ditch effort, he put on his most easygoing smile to try and let Giyuu know that everything would be fine. As he did, the heaviest swell of deja vu hit him square in the face. 

He blinked and blinked to try and regain his vision but at some point Giyuu’s tears started to look like falling flower petals, and he couldn’t tell daydream from reality anymore. Somewhere far away, he heard the rustling of leaves and the sound of clashing swords. 

It had been years since they’ve seen one another, even longer since they’ve spoken. He knew, logically, that a stranger stood before him. That not a single word was sent in exchange for the thousands Giyuu gave him. He knew that, and yet…

“Have you been well?” The words came out quiet, fragile.

Shinazugawa averted his gaze for a moment, shrugging. A weak smile was all he managed. 

Giyuu felt an overwhelming need to touch him. His mind supplied the scandalous idea of holding him, not fuelled by familiarity but by the distinct lack of it. To reach out and feel skin against his own, to find it solid. Giyuu swept that thought away. The desire could not be labelled. 

Instead, Giyuu grabbed at his own haori and tried to be satisfied with the touch of cloth.

A long time ago, the Young Master Ubuyashiki had said, “I want you to write to Sanemi. I think it would be helpful for you to stay in touch. It will help him too, I believe, from getting lost.” 

Giyuu did not understand what he meant. Shinazugawa had marvelously sharp directional instincts. What’s more, Giyuu was sure Shinazugawa hated him. With the dissolution of the Demon Slayer Corps, gone was the only reason for them to interact. Reasonable as his protests may be, Giyuu was unable to deny the young boy. So, he started drafting letters.

It began like all his other habits – practiced, perfunctory. Static reports spiralled into pages of thoughts, until Giyuu was unsure whether he was writing reflections about his life or whether he lived life in hopes of telling Shinazugawa about it. 

More than once a day would Giyuu catch himself trying to freeze a moment in time as he pondered the right words to describe it later. Now that Shinazugawa was here, really here, Giyuu was quite speechless. 

Shinazugawa spared him from having to speak first. “I hear you’re getting married.” 

Giyuu did not think the news would draw Shinazugawa to finally come to his estate. Even if he had such foresight, Giyuu thinks he would have written to him anyway. 

“Is that why you are here? To…” Giyuu dared not be presumptuous. “Help?” 

Shinazugawa hunched at the doorway, shadows obscuring his eyes. Even if Giyuu could see better, he was sure the man’s expression would be unreadable. For the longest time, Shinazugawa had been no more than a name on a page, a silent confidante. Giyuu did not know what to do with all of him here, now. 

Eventually, Shinazugawa lifted his head. “Yeah. To help.”

Propriety at last came to mind. Giyuu stepped aside at once. “Pardon my manners. Come in.” 

Shinazugawa moved like the ground would give away at any moment. With a shaky step, he crossed the threshold into Giyuu’s home. 

A futon was set up in the spare room. There was little to unpack. Shinazugawa only had two large bags with him. A larger one for necessities while the other was bound up tightly. The contents must have been important.

“Giyuu, I-” Shinazugawa winced. “Sorry, I mean, Tomioka. Do you have a spare chest I can organize this stuff in?”

From the beaten exterior, it seemed Sanemi carried his entire life in those two bags. As Giyuu brought over a storage box, he said, “You can call me Giyuu. I don’t mind.”

Whatever face Shinazugawa made, he did so with his back turned to Giyuu. He produced a large stack of something wrapped in paper. “Call me Sanemi, then.”

Worded like a command, spoken like an offer. One that Giyuu took. “Well then, Sanemi…” Scarred hands tightened their grip around the parcel, crinkling the paper. Giyuu suddenly felt like he was intruding. “Goodnight.” 

The sound of the door being closed masked two identical sighs on either side of the wall. Giyuu laid awake that night, conscious of every creak coming from the next room over. He wondered if this night was a fluke, if he’d wake and Sanemi would vanish along with the midnight winds. 

He did not. 

-

It frightened him, how easy it was to talk with Sanemi. 

Giyuu was worried he came across as awkward now that he lacked the benefit of sitting down and thinking before expressing himself. Worse, he worried that he would run out of things to say and be condemned to the other form of awkwardness known as silence. 

Once he saw Sanemi in the morning light though, sunlight illuminating his pale white haori such that he glowed, all those worries melted away.

Giyuu could say, “I enjoyed breakfast this morning,” or “I want to go into town,” without spending a drop of ink on the thought. 

Even more frightening, Sanemi responded. Every bit as confident and opinionated as Giyuu expected him to be. “The fish was kinda dry. Skip the shopping tomorrow, it’ll be fresher by next Thursday,” or, “You need to dust this room more.” 

Though conversation flowed on the surface, deeper subjects remained unspoken of. Why now, after so long, did Sanemi decide to come see him? Did Sanemi really read all the letters Giyuu wrote to him? What has he been doing for all these years?

Part of this mental barrier came in part because, for some unknown reason, Sanemi did not want Giyuu to know that he’s been visiting the nearby town. It was clear, from how Sanemi would overcorrect himself or say too much on accident, that he was familiar with the community next to the estate. It was made all the more painfully obvious because Sanemi declined to accompany Giyuu on each visit into town. 

Giyuu couldn’t figure out why. After all, he’s known that Sanemi had been visiting the village for years now. 

Early on in their one-sided correspondence, Giyuu recalled that Sanemi enjoyed eating ohagi. He just so happened to pass by a shop in town specializing in the dessert and started visiting the old woman who owned it with regularity. 

He didn’t even like ohagi that much but he found himself craving it whenever he’d write to Sanemi. It did not take long to figure out who the “ruggedly charming and strong swordsman with scary eyes” was that the shopkeeper kept raving about. Once he did, Giyuu continued to buy ohagi, staying long enough to hear what this mysterious, nomadic swordsman was up to in town. 

Usually it was doing handiwork or moving boxes. Other times balancing out teams when the children would go out to play. In all cases, adding a bit of spontaneity and intrigue to the otherwise run-of-the-mill town. The townspeople liked to make certain remarks or teasing comments at anything new. Giyuu was treated in a similar matter, when he first arrived.

Perhaps Giyuu didn’t ask because he didn’t want to admit to keeping tabs on Sanemi in such a manner. Not to mention, he did not want to know how people would react if they were seen together. There was a good chance they’d expose Giyuu for being privy to Sanemi’s private affairs. 

That would not do. If Sanemi wanted Giyuu to know about his life, he would have written back. 

“Where do you want this?” Sanemi lifted two giant vases containing flowers to be planted outside. Today, the two were out rearranging Giyuu’s garden. He figured if he was going to welcome a new companion to his estate, he ought to make it more lively. He’d lived rather minimally, up until now.

Giyuu pointed to the plots he’d prepared by his fish pond. “Over there is fine. You can take a break once you’ve done so.” 

The arrangements would have gone by faster, if Giyuu still had both hands to work with. There were plenty of offers to have someone come help him on a permanent basis, all of which Giyuu declined. He would not enjoy having someone in his space that way. Nor would he enjoy feeling so dependent. He had gotten used to this post-battle body of his and managed just fine.

Still, having Sanemi around to help with the chores was refreshing. It didn’t make Giyuu feel like he was some kind of stationary general giving orders. The rhythm was natural, like back when they used to spar.

As an added bonus, Sanemi was– for some inexplicable reason– really good at household chores. 

“So-” Sanemi’s voice snapped Giyuu back to the present- “you made any other arrangements or have you just started planning?”

Giyuu forgot what they were talking about before. “For the flower garden?”

Sanemi squinted at him. “Your wedding?”

Oh, right. Giyuu provided a noncommittal answer, instead focusing on getting the tray of drinks he’d prepared to the outside deck. Strange that before, the idea of getting married was all Giyuu could think about. Yet once Sanemi started staying with him, he kept finding reasons to put off the preparations. “I made tea.”

Sanemi walked over and chugged the whole thing without so much as blowing on it. Good thing Giyuu brought the teapot out too. 

Giyuu sat down by the deck overlooking his garden. Thanks to Sanemi’s hard work, it was coming along nicely. His helper stood around, unsure of what to do with idle hands, until Giyuu patted the space beside him. Instead of obliging, Sanemi leaned against a support beam.

They conversed only to fill the air. Silence risked drawing attention to just how many things were unsaid between them.

“First fish, now flowers, huh?”

“I’m still trying to figure out what I like.” It was difficult for Giyuu to treat hobbies as the noncommittal pastimes they were intended to be. “Slowing down is difficult.”

“Yeah, it is.” Sanemi leaned back to look at the sky. “I don’t know how we’ve been doing it for so long.”

“One day we will have spent more time slowing down than we ever have spent slaying demons,” Giyuu mused. It was meant to be an offhand comment, but it struck something in Sanemi.

He caught the reflection of the clouds above in Sanemi’s eyes. “Funny idea, isn’t it? To spend more of your life not having a purpose than having one.”

Giyuu wished he knew what the right words were. In all their time knowing each other, even if they weren’t close, Giyuu had never seen Sanemi so defeated before. It was disheartening. 

“Sorry, that was…” Sanemi’s laugh was dry. “It’s good weather for planting chrysanthemums. Could use them for brewing tea too.”

Back to the mundane conversations. Giyuu remembered speaking to Sanemi like this, very early on in his correspondence. He did not enjoy the feeling of distance, but nor did he have the right to ask for closeness. So they continued to exchange words. 

That’s all it felt like, a mere exchange. 

When did he hope to have the ceremony? Sometime next spring, after the last of winter’s chill. 

Did he plan to invite a lot of people? Not particularly, though it would depend on his partner’s preferences too. 

Did he think he would enjoy married life? He thinks so, maybe.

“Maybe?” Sanemi pushed back for once instead of simply accepting the answer.

Sanemi looked like he wanted to ask more but Giyuu could never keep up small talk for long. Though Sanemi was only here to help with the wedding, Giyuu did not enjoy talking to him about it. He knew it was illogical, but Sanemi made it all feel too real. Too forward thinking, when what Giyuu most wanted was a glimpse into Sanemi’s past. 

“Sanemi, tell me about something. Anything.” No, that wasn’t right. They had been talking about anything. Giyuu wanted more.

Sanemi could sense so. With a defeated sigh, he sat down beside Giyuu. “Alright. Ask away.” 

That was simpler than Giyuu had anticipated. 

It should not have been surprising that Sanemi mellowed out over the years, except Giyuu could never quite get the spitfire image of the Sanemi he knew out of his head. He never would have gotten a straightforward answer out of that Sanemi. 

Best not to squander a chance to hear from the one sitting beside him. “What have you been doing all these years?”

“Travelling, mostly. Sometimes working. I don’t stay anywhere too long.”

“Did you ever visit anyone else?”

“No. I never found the time.” 

Yet you found the time for me? Giyuu did not ask. “My letters. Did you read them?”

“Every single one.” 

The honesty of that answer surprised them both. Sanemi seemed to realize what he’d just said and looked away from Giyuu towards the trees. Giyuu, on the other hand, could not stop looking at Sanemi. 

It was one thing to write all those letters to Sanemi. It was another to have the recipient acknowledge all of them at once. Sanemi didn’t even elaborate beyond the confirmation, so why did Giyuu feel so… embarrassed? 

He held his teacup up to his cheek and found they were the same temperature. Giyuu cleared his throat. “If you’ve spent all this time travelling, you must have been to many places. Is there anywhere you haven’t gone yet?”

It was this question that caught Sanemi by genuine surprise. He did not answer for a long time. “There is one town I never managed to get to. I don’t know when I’ll be able to go.”

Vague on purpose. Another wall. Giyuu wondered if there was a bad memory associated with the town that kept Sanemi away. But since he still wanted to go, perhaps there was still hope yet. “I’d like to come with you, when you do go.”

“When I go,” Sanemi echoed, eyes drifting somewhere far off. Then, a sad smile. “That would be nice.”

The quiet could have stretched forever, if they let it. 

Eventually, one of them said something or the other. Giyuu got up, Sanemi followed. Several pots of flowers were moved here and there. They went back inside and ate dinner together. 

Something gave way that afternoon, Giyuu thought to himself as he looked at Sanemi across the dinner table. His house guest still ate in a hurried manner, like he needed to be ready at any moment to get up and leave. 

Slowing down is difficult. 

Instead of heading right to sleep, though, Sanemi stayed to chat with Giyuu even after all the dishes were cleaned and dried. At some point Giyuu must have smiled because Sanemi would not stop staring at his mouth. Upon getting caught, he saw Sanemi’s lips slowly curving upward in what could only have been a mirrored imitation. 

They said nothing about it. 

When Giyuu went to bed that night, he replayed the sound of Sanemi’s voice in his head. It was not even about the words, for none could be made out. Moreso that there was finally a sound to answer the calls Giyuu had been making into the wind. Whatever the reason, Giyuu closed his eyes and let the memory of Sanemi’s soothing tenor lull him to a dreamless rest. 

-

They passed autumn and winter in this comfortable routine. Get up, make meals together, do housework, talk a bit, and the day would be over. Certain habits stuck out to Giyuu. 

Sanemi always got up a few minutes before Giyuu did. He didn’t notice at first, it was such a trivial detail, but Giyuu couldn’t recall the last time he saw the kitchen empty in the morning. 

Sanemi also liked to pick up after Giyuu. Not that Giyuu was a messy person, not at all, but Sanemi always knew when he was “done” using something and would put it back in its rightful place. 

Most recently, Giyuu noticed that Sanemi preferred keeping to Giyuu’s right side. The same side Giyuu coincidentally lacked an arm. He was certain this was unintentional, for Sanemi’s habits manifested too naturally to be forced. 

Yet, something told Giyuu these habits didn’t exist until they started living together. 

“You’re always first to start cooking in the kitchen, even though it does not seem like you particularly enjoy eating.” Giyuu remarked one day over dinner. 

Sanemi ate like it was still a mere necessity, even now as he set down his bowl of plain rice. “Hard to like food as much as you.” Not so much an explanation as it was a diversion. 

Giyuu refused to take the bait. “We can add more sugar to the food if you want. I know you prefer sweets.” Sanemi then gave him the strangest look, which lingered so long that Giyuu began to doubt his statement. “Don’t you?” 

“I do,” Sanemi admitted, and then averted his eyes. “I just didn’t think you noticed.” 

Now that Giyuu took as a borderline insult. “Of course I notice. I can only go off my observations and assumptions since you’re so hesitant to volunteer information about yourself.”

Giyuu knew he was being greedy. His housemate had been opening up gradually, a pace one might even call reasonable, but each drop of information did nothing to satiate Giyuu’s curiosity. 

Sanemi was the type of person he couldn’t help but wonder about. 

All the confidence and screaming may have worked at scaring the other Corps members away but Giyuu was never phased. He lingered, and wondered. 

Back then, Giyuu did not know how to express his desire for understanding with words. 

Whenever they used to spar, Sanemi always ended up snapping at Giyuu for staring too intently or looking too arrogant. Really, Giyuu was trying to verbalize the giant question mark he saw whenever he looked at Sanemi. Despite his apparent rudeness, Giyuu never drove Sanemi away for long. Their sparring sessions were the longest, and the ones Giyuu looked forward to the most. 

One time, Giyuu came close to figuring out what he wanted to say. It was the day after he awoke from his coma. His legs were still getting used to solid ground as he limped around Butterfly Mansion. On his third turn, he noticed the door to Sanemi’s room was ajar.

He hadn’t meant to pry. It was coincidental that Giyuu stumbled a bit right near the gap which looked into the room. Sanemi was sitting upright in his bed, staring at a beetle on the windowsill. He had looked at the creature with a fondness Giyuu never saw before. 

It reminded him of when he used to train in the forest. He once thought back to that time with sorrow but lately it was easier to recall how the sunlight filtered through the leaves, and the happiness he felt running through the dirt paths. 

There was a strange flutter in Giyuu’s stomach and his first real question came to mind: Do you like beetles? 

Giyuu never got the chance to ask. 

A nurse assumed he had fallen and quickly escorted him away. 

In the present, Sanemi continued to pick at his food. “There’s not much to know about me.”

“That’s not true.” Do you like beetles? Do you like beetles? “I used to think I was not very interesting but I’ve learned there’s something of value in every person.”

Sanemi scoffed. “You sound like Tanjiro.” 

“I’m glad you haven’t forgotten him. I think he’d like to see you again too.”

“He shouldn’t hold his breath.” Sanemi said it in a way which made it seem like he was not planning to stay for much longer. Giyuu’s heart sank, but Sanemi must have realized this because he quickly added, “Not that I’m goin’ anywhere before I help you get settled.”

It somehow always turned to the topic of Giyuu’s inevitable nuptials. He knew it was the only reason why Sanemi was staying with him, yet the topic began to sour all their conversations. 

Giyuu stood up and began clearing away the dishes. 

Sanemi was quick to pick up on the shift in mood. “Wait, Giyuu. Leave ‘em there I can clean it up.”

“I can do perfectly well on my own.”

“Well sure you can but-” Sanemi grabbed a cup out of Giyuu’s hands. Quick, responsive, like when they used to clash their wooden swords- “You don’t have to. I like helping you.”

“You do?”

“I like the chores, okay?” Sanemi made Giyuu sit down as he cleaned. “I like things that keep me busy. You’re the one who wrote to me about it in the first place.” 

Sanemi caught himself before he could admit to anything too earnest. 

His expression made Giyuu laugh, a sound so foreign that Sanemi nearly dropped a plate. 

“Sorry.” Giyuu didn’t know what he was apologizing for.

“D-don’t be. It’s…” The tips of Sanemi’s ears flushed, and he ushered Giyuu out of his own kitchen. An occurrence that was growing more common as the weeks went by. 

Sanemi liked ohagi, and chores, and maybe beetles. 

Little by little, the question marks will disappear and Giyuu might get a glimpse of Sanemi’s whole self. 

Until then, he counted these little victories and wondered what else Sanemi might like. 

-

For new year’s they decided to travel to the one town Sanemi never got to. 

It was a suggestion Giyuu made casually, but not lightly. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Sanemi had said that day in the garden. The way he looked so far into the distance like the town was right there. Sanemi wore the same face looking out at the snow under the dim light last week. And again two nights ago, when Giyuu told him he was sending a letter off to Tanjiro and Nezuko. 

He didn’t expect Sanemi to agree, not right away. When Giyuu asked, though, Sanemi waited only a minute or so before replying in a quiet voice, “Alright.”

It was not a particularly long journey. They left before dawn, an icy frost covering the grass and the trees as they walked side by side. Their travels were mostly silent, a kind Giyuu did not want to disturb. 

Sometimes Sanemi would stop in the middle of the road, looking like he wanted to turn around and forget the whole thing. Other times, Giyuu caught them drifting towards a detour. Each time, Sanemi would catch Giyuu’s eyes and find his footing again. 

Giyuu didn’t even realize they’d arrived. They were unpacking in what he assumed was another nameless inn en route when Sanemi said, “We’re here.” 

Giyuu almost didn’t hear it. He paused his unpacking to look out the window. The town was much like any other. Unremarkable, even. “How do you feel?”

Sanemi sat at the foot of his bed. “I don’t know. I haven’t been home in so long.”

So this was what it was, a homecoming. 

Sanemi’s strange aversion suddenly made sense. A dull ache settled in Giyuu’s heart. Home, but they were staying at a house for guests. Home, but the streets greeted them like strangers. Home, in name only. 

Giyuu didn’t dare insult Sanemi by asking whether he had anyone to stop in on. Instead, he asked where they should go for lunch. After eating came the part where they wandered around for the rest of the day. Sanemi walked ahead and Giyuu trailed a few steps behind. Sanemi’s steps were intentionally aimless, like he walked solely to figure out how each step made him feel.

Giyuu could not tell if they’d passed by Sanemi’s old home, his favorite stores, or any such landmark. Their path weaved in and out of streets until Sanemi finally came to a stop at the town’s perimeter. He found a large boulder by some trees and sat, watching the sun set over unfamiliar wooden buildings. 

For the first time in hours, Sanemi spoke. “Did you ever torture yourself like this too?” 

It took a moment for Giyuu to realize what he’d meant. “Only once, when I was sure no one would remember me.” 

“And did they?” 

Giyuu shook his head. “I left when I was very young, there would be no reason to. Even when I lived there, my family only consisted of one other person.”

“Your sister, right?” Sanemi recalled. “Tsutako.” 

Giyuu must have looked shellshocked, for Sanemi explained, “You wrote to me about her. Bet you haven’t heard anyone say her name out loud in a while.”

Giyuu couldn’t do anything but nod. 

Sanemi continued, “It sucks to be the only one left who remembers.”

Not anymore, Giyuu thought, because Sanemi had just said her name. Hearing it again stirred up emotions Giyuu thought he’d long stilled. His eyes stung like he was the same pitiful boy crying out for his sister all over again. Perhaps he never stopped being that boy.

“I don’t know how I’m so comfortable talking to you.” Giyuu admitted. Sanemi looked confused, about to protest, but Giyuu stopped him. “It makes sense for you to be comfortable with me. You’ve read practically every thought I’ve had for the last five years. I don’t know anything about you and yet, why does it still feel like I do?” 

Sanemi let the question linger unanswered. In the distance, a group of small children ran around kicking a ball. A wistful smile graced Sanemi’s features. “I had six siblings. I was the oldest.”

Giyuu knew of one who had passed, Genya, and only because he used to be Tanjiro’s friend. His mind immediately went to Sabito, and suddenly it felt like he could no longer hold his head up. 

“Will you tell me their names?” 

Sanemi tried but after the first syllable, his voice cracked. He cupped his hand against his mouth to keep the broken pieces from spilling out. Even if he could be comforted, Sanemi looked like he would shatter at the slightest touch. He closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control.

When he next opened them, Giyuu was kneeling on the ground. A pile of stones were gathered in his lap, small and smooth. Giyuu didn’t look up as he arranged the rocks in a semi-circle. Six small rocks encircling the one Sanemi sat on. 

“One day you’ll be able to say their names again. Until then, this is to remember them by.” Giyuu had planted the same memorial stone for his sister in the backyard of the house where they used to live. 

Sanemi grabbed another rock from the pile and set it on the ground in front of all the others. “My mother.” His hand stayed on the rock, holding it with the same care and kindness she must have held him with back then. 

With the arrangement done, Giyuu turned his back to Sanemi and the rocks. He did not know if Sanemi wanted to be seen grieving. 

It began to snow. 

Each breathy exhale a reminder of just how cold it was. 

Giyuu sat with his knees tucked to his chest and watched as the lights slowly came on throughout the town. He didn’t turn around again until he felt Sanemi elbow his back. 

“I thought now that it’s all over that it would be easier, but it isn’t. How can we ever bear the grief?” Spoken like it came directly from Giyuu, as if Sanemi was quoting him. He was, Giyuu realized, quoting him. “I don’t think I have been very well.” 

“I don’t even remember how long ago I wrote that,” Giyuu said. He looked at the stones, then to Sanemi. “But I think I have some sort of an answer.”

“Yeah?” 

Giyuu nodded before placing a gentle hand on Sanemi’s shoulder. “It’s easier when you’re not alone.” 

They helped each other up, dusting snowflakes off their coats and hair. When they got back to the inn, the light snow turned into a flurry. By morning, the whole town was covered in white. They visited the rocks one more time to dig them out of the snow. 

“I’ll visit again.” Sanemi whispered, and Giyuu pretended not to hear. “It won’t take so long next time. I promise.” 

-

On the last night of winter, Giyuu had a nightmare. That in itself was not the problem. Nightmares were an unfortunate normalcy in Giyuu’s life and had been since he was young. What plagued him that night was no haunted memory or blood-soaked history, rather, a fiction.

In his dream, Sanemi had not survived. It was not even a scenario where he saw Sanemi get slain in battle or eaten by demons. He did not even see Sanemi in his dream. It was one where Giyuu simply knew. A world much like the world now, except Sanemi was no longer there in it. A dream where Giyuu lived in an empty house, with a hollow feeling in his heart.

He tried to will himself back to sleep, treating it the same as all the other nightmares. 

But he found that once his eyes were open he could not get them to shut again. His heart refused to quiet. Before he knew it, his feet were taking him to the guest room and his hands were knocking on the door. 

There was still light emanating from inside, so at least Sanemi was not yet asleep. 

“Giyuu?” Sanemi was not sleeping at all. There were papers scattered across the table and floor, alongside pen and ink. “What’s wrong?”

“I just…” Needed to see you. “Wanted to see if you needed anything. Before bed.”

Sanemi blinked. “Not since the last time you asked a few hours ago.”

Were he in better condition, Giyuu could have come up with a more tactful excuse. But the nightmare had shaken him more than he realized. Sanemi must have sensed it too, as he brought Giyuu inside and had him sit down near the candlelight. 

“Another nightmare.” Sanemi did not phrase it like a question. 

Of course he knew. Even if Giyuu did not verbally confirm it, the dreadful look in his eyes would have. 

It was a time mixed between night and morning which made everything, including Giyuu, feel unmoored. Like walking down a step that isn’t there. 

Sanemi did not ask about it, just grabbed a blanket and spread it around Giyuu’s shoulders. “You don’t have to go back to sleep.” 

He didn’t. Instead, he watched Sanemi move slowly about the room, picking up various papers and sorting them into neat piles. His vision was bleary and the light was not strong, but Giyuu could make out the shape of his own handwriting. 

Eventually, he asked, “What were you doing so late?”

Sound came slowly to Giyuu. He saw Sanemi thin his lips before moving them. “I’ve been trying to teach myself how to write.”

Giyuu picked up a paper near his foot; a letter he’d written to Sanemi. “My letters.”

“I use them as a reference. They’re easy to read. You’re very neat.”

“This was from three years ago.” Giyuu set the paper back on the floor and reached for another. “And so is this one. How many have you kept?”

Sanemi had been carrying his paper compilations to a chest in the corner. It was meant to be for storing clothes and other large items but Giyuu saw paper filled to the top from all the way across the room. 

Sanemi tucked the last letter away and shut the chest with a soft click. “All of them.”

He was pleasantly surprised at Sanemi’s sentimentality. Flattered, even. Giyuu drew the blanket closer around himself. Something in his chest hurt and would not go away until he soothed himself with breathing. 

“It must have been heavy to carry all this time. You could have at least thrown out the boring ones.”

“What boring ones?” Sanemi should have been preparing to sleep. Instead, he lit another candle and sat down beside Giyuu.

“Now you’re being facetious.” 

Sanemi chuckled. Giyuu didn’t get to hear him laugh often. Another strange consequence of this midnight morning. 

Calmed from his nightmare, the edges of sleep began to settle in. All was still for a very long time. Giyuu watched through half-lidded eyes as the candlelight melted away. The duration of each blink grew longer and longer. 

Only at the precipice of unconsciousness did Giyuu hear Sanemi whisper, “I want to write back next time.”

That made little sense to Giyuu. Why would you need to write back? I can tell you everything I want right here.

“I hope you keep writing to me, even after I’m gone.”

But I don’t want you to be gone.

“There’s no place for me here.”

Giyuu wanted to tell him that he was wrong. The feeling behind his words was all wrong. He tried to sit up properly to tell Sanemi just so, but his sleep-addled haze made it difficult to move. Instead, his head landed on Sanemi’s shoulder. 

Soft fabric touched Giyuu’s cheek and he couldn’t help but lean into it. A light fragrance of flowers filled his senses and it was enough to make Giyuu feel like floating away. He reached out for something to ground him, and was met with Sanemi’s hand.

“Don’t go.” Giyuu mumbled. There was a rumbling, which indicated that Sanemi was speaking. Giyuu decided it did not matter what Sanemi said. Don’t go. He repeated, perhaps out loud, perhaps only in his head, again and again to himself as the soft fabric of Sanemi’s collar against his nose pulled Giyuu into a deep, peaceful sleep. 

Giyuu woke up alone on the first morning of spring, in a bed that was not his own, surrounded by the shadow of another’s warmth and the lingering scent of water lilies. 

-

Giyuu was getting married. 

A fact he had to keep reminding himself of. 

A fact so omnipresent that it became easy to ignore the longer time went on. Fading into the background like the air itself. 

Warmer weather meant longer strolls through the market as Giyuu picked up groceries and exchanged pleasantries with the local townsfolk. Sanemi was still keeping to the house, never taking a step beyond the estate’s boundary lines. 

They were making good progress on preparations for incoming matrimony. The garden was complete, clothes were picked out, a large banquet menu decided. Sanemi proved himself steadfast at ticking all the necessary boxes during times when Giyuu himself forgot what they were working towards.

Lately, Giyuu wished he could forget about the whole affair. 

He was lost in this very thought when one of the fruit vendors handed him a set of documents. “Sorry it took so long, but I made inquiries like you asked.” 

Giyuu thumbed through the papers. They were all names of women. “These are-”

“-candidates, for your future spouse! Hopefully one of them will be the lucky lady, eh?” 

He replied, but his voice felt not his own. “Of course. Thank you.”

When Giyuu arrived back home, he shoved the documents in an unmarked drawer and did not think about them again. 

When Sanemi asked if there was anything good at the market, Giyuu could not think of anything to say. Sanemi seemed displeased, but did not push.

Two weeks later, Sanemi found the papers. 

Within three days, they stopped speaking to each other. 

It was not intentional, at least, not on Giyuu’s part. Most days, he did not even remember to think. His movements were mechanical and his speech stifled. Sanemi continued to wash the dishes and sweep the floors. He did not smile so much anymore. He was not happy, and Giyuu did not know why.

Giyuu did not feel happy, and he did not know why.

It took another week before Sanemi spoke to Giyuu again. “They’re here.”

“Who?” Giyuu was sitting outside, having grown weary of the silent rooms. 

“Your bridal candidates. I took the liberty of arranging your interviews.” Sanemi handed over the documents, crumpled edges and all, to Giyuu’s uneager hands.

“Thank you,” Giyuu lied. “I suppose I’ll see them in one of the larger rooms.”

He so wished for Sanemi to speak or even give a hint of emotion as to what the man might have been feeling. Giyuu searched those lilac eyes he’d come to know so well over the past few months. He found nothing but walls. 

Sanemi turned, sharp and formal, and went back in without a word. 

Giyuu sat in a large room with a table too small to comfortably fill the space. He set the stack of documents before him, which contained detailed profiles of several accomplished young ladies. He should have prepared a pot of tea or snacks. A more diligent man would have even prepared some kind of gift for each candidate. 

All that filled the room was himself and a single, low table. 

Sanemi walked in leading a young woman. She smiled prettily and bowed. Giyuu motioned for her to sit, and she would oblige. They would speak and Giyuu would not see Sanemi again until he brought in the next young woman.

The ladies were all polite and kind. 

From an objective viewpoint, any one of them would have made an ideal wife. They were all good at carrying the conversation and none of them made Giyuu feel uncomfortable. He realized after the fourth interview that all his candidates were oddly suitable. Not one could Giyuu rule out as particularly incompatible. 

Sanemi must have gone through the list once already, and only invited those he thought Giyuu would get along with. 

He spent more time dwelling on that thought than he should have. 

Giyuu waited for someone to walk in that would shake him from his stupor. To take away the terrible melancholy that has set over his heart. 

He did his best to get to know each woman. They spoke with him earnestly and all had nice things to say. They were talented, beautiful, and sweet. Some knew how to play instruments. Others cooked well. Many of them had scholarly pursuits and led interesting lives. 

Without fail, after each interview, Giyuu could not recall the face of who he had just spoken with. 

The day dragged on. He was thankful after his final guest informed him that she was the last person waiting for him. When she shut the door, Giyuu let out a long sigh. 

He wished to sleep.

Thankfully, when the door opened again, it was just Sanemi. He entered with a tray of tea and a familiar attitude. It was like the past few weeks never happened, and the stones in Giyuu’s stomach fell away. “I knew you’d be tired.”

“You’d be correct.” Giyuu felt himself relax as he poured all his anxiety away into two cups. “I don’t think I’d be able to greet any more guests for at least three months.”

Sanemi pretended to laugh. Though the tea was steaming and ready, he did not sit. Giyuu tried to make conversation like they used to and despite responding like normal there was a flightiness to Sanemi. He would look away, fidget with his hands, or give a sudden turn. 

Giyuu could only sip quietly at his tea, wondering how to make it alright again.

Sanemi was still standing when he asked, “Have you decided?”

If a particular name or face was supposed to leap out in his mind, none did so. “No.”

He hated to waste Sanemi’s time. On a functional level, Giyuu could have chosen any of the candidates to keep him company. That was what he intended when he began this process. He supposed part of the dissatisfaction stemmed from the small hope, naive as it may have been, to simply know the person he was to marry when he saw them. To feel at ease and at home.

That sort of feeling may only come after getting to truly know someone, he feared. 

His answer causes something to snap in Sanemi, who took several steps forward. “There’s still one candidate left.” 

Giyuu looked up, confused. “Who?”

Sanemi got on his knees, and bowed deeply. “I have nothing to offer you. I have no skills, no prospects, and no family. Everything I own is what I carried here with me. I should probably lie and talk myself up to even have a chance at this, but I respect you too much to disguise my faults. You know them well. I am brash and loud. Irritable and undignified. I don’t have anything of value to give you.

Still, even understanding all the reasons why I am a terrible match for you, why I could never be yours… I can’t help but love you. I think, even after all this is over, I will always love you. And that is why I kneel in front of you now, making a complete embarrassment out of myself, because love has made me a discourteous fool. One who, despite knowing better, still asks that you consider these horribly selfish feelings of mine that wish more than anything to live a life with you.”

Sanemi bowed once more and left the room without so much as a glance towards Giyuu. 

All the confused and incomprehensible feelings Giyuu had built up burst like a heavy rain cloud, and clarity washed over him. 

I can’t help but love you. 

A sudden jolt of energy swept through Giyuu’s veins. He tried to take a step but the ferocity of his emotions made him wobble. A strangled sound escaped him as he fell onto his knees. 

I will always love you.

Giyuu curled in on himself, clutching at his chest as if it would dull the overwhelming sensations. Equal parts happy and hurting. Why hadn’t Sanemi said something? Why hadn’t Giyuu realized sooner? How, after all the time they’ve spent together and even the time apart, could Sanemi ever think he was unworthy?

Even if he was capable of speaking, none could answer but the empty room.

Sanemi loved him, yet he walked away.

In the silence, Giyuu cries.

-

He found Sanemi sitting by the fish pond, gazing at the moon through the translucent waters. Little bubbles broke the serene surface as koi fish glided along underneath. A resigned sadness enveloped Sanemi. He wore the pain like an old overcoat, the way it drew down his shoulders. 

Giyuu’s eyes were still warm and, were he to find his reflection, undoubtedly red too. He was not in the proper state to see anyone. But he had kept Sanemi waiting long enough. 

The sky was at a point where purple bled into deep blue, and the twinkle of stars began to peek out. Giyuu tried to approach carefully but, as ever, Sanemi caught on. Giyuu was still a few steps away when Sanemi’s voice broke through the night. 

“I shouldn’t have put you in that position. Giyuu, I’m so-”

“No!” Giyuu shouted. He never shouted, but for Sanemi he would do any number of unheard things. “If you apologize to me I’ll never forgive you.” 

That seemed to give Sanemi enough pause for Giyuu to reach his side. He kneeled down and tried to catch Sanemi’s eyes, but he only continued staring at the pond water. 

Eyes glazed over in a trancelike state. 

Giyuu figured that anything he said would not fully reach Sanemi.  

Start small, Tanjiro once told him, when he was still adjusting to civilian life, even little things like how they’re doing or what the weather is like can make it easier to start talking to people. 

The advice was meant to make it easier for Giyuu to converse with those in town. If nothing else would work on Sanemi, then Giyuu would start small. 

“There’s a woman who makes ohagi in town,” he began. He saw a flicker– recognition, or perhaps nerves– cross Sanemi’s eyes. “I started visiting her because I remembered you liked ohagi. She’d tell me stories about a lone swordsman who sometimes visited our town. He’s always lending someone a helping hand but he never stays long. I don’t know if he realizes it, but everyone’s quite fond of him.”

Giyuu reached over and placed his hand atop Sanemi’s. This worked at getting his attention. “I am also quite fond of him.”

Their eyes met, and Giyuu made a silent promise to never be apart again. 

“You knew I was coming here this whole time and you aren’t… upset with me?” It was faint, but Giyuu heard the slightest bit of hope in Sanemi’s voice.

He shook his head. “You weren’t ready to see me. I would never hold that against you.” 

“I wanted to. I wanted to, so badly. I just…” Sanemi trailed off. His hand trembled. 

“You don’t have to explain.” If their time together has taught Giyuu anything, it was that the shared understanding between them ran deeper than any distance in space or time. “You can just be.” 

“I’m not used to living in a world where I get to have things.”

This feeling Giyuu understood too. But this wasn’t the same world that took away their friends and loved ones. They had fought so hard precisely to make the world anew. 

When it looked like Sanemi was about to turn away again, Giyuu pulled him close until they were forced to meet eye-to-eye. 

“Sanemi, you are not selfish. You are not broken, and you are not worthless. You have been steadfast, a constant in my life that I cannot and will not lose. Even before you arrived here, I looked forward to writing to you every day. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize how much I needed you. I still need you. So when you came in and presented yourself like you were nothing, I couldn’t believe it.”

“I never wrote back to you.” Sanemi spoke like his inaction was some form of betrayal. He attempted to refute again in a small, weak voice. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you.” Giyuu spoke with such conviction; like it was a mere fact of life. “I know you.” 

Giyuu drew ever-closer, not caring that tears once again filled his eyes. He let go of Sanemi’s hand to hold his face instead. And Sanemi, beautiful, wild-eyed Sanemi, could not look away. 

“How could you ever think I wouldn’t love you?” 

Before Sanemi could open his mouth, self-deprecation on the tip of his tongue, Giyuu foreclosed any shred of doubt. He leaned in, and kissed him. 

There was a split second, driven by instinct, where it felt like Sanemi was going to push him off. But his resolve broke at once and Giyuu caught Sanemi in his embrace as the other melted against him.

Soft was not a word anyone used for Sanemi, yet it was all Giyuu could think as their lips met. Soft in the way Sanemi touched him. Soft were the strands of his hair as they brushed against Giyuu’s face. Soft because Sanemi cared that much about making sure Giyuu never again met harshness. 

When they broke apart, Sanemi hid his face in Giyuu’s shoulder. 

“Would you- I-” The words were disjointed, muffled against his haori, but Giyuu heard it all the same. “I need to hear you say it again, please.”

Giyuu leaned close, nearly wrapping himself over Sanemi as he whispered in his ear. “I love you, Sanemi. I’ll always love you.” 

They stayed holding onto each other, feeling tremors the way a gentle wind shakes the first leaves of budding spring. The empty feeling that Giyuu spent his life tolerating vanished– and it left him lighter than air. 

He was overcome with a need to see Sanemi’s face again, to make him smile. But even as Giyuu straightened himself, Sanemi’s face remained rooted to his shoulder. 

It took a moment to realize that Sanemi was not so distraught anymore as he was… shy? 

Giyuu touched his finger to Sanemi’s cheek and found that, despite leaning into his touch, Sanemi’s face turned ever further away. 

He was. Sanemi was being shy. 

It made Giyuu want to kiss him all the more. 

“Sanemi?”

“Hmph?” Even his usual huffing and puffing now carried a boyish charm. 

Giyuu’s face began to hurt. He didn’t know the last time he felt joy like this. It was a different kind of happiness. There was relief and elation, to be sure, yet having Sanemi to himself like this brought a sense of completeness. “Sanemi, will you look at me?”

He had been hiding for good reason. Giyuu had never seen Sanemi so flushed, even counting that one night the Hashira went out drinking. Though now exposed, Sanemi did not cower. He returned Giyuu’s gaze like a challenge. 

Beyond the front, Giyuu saw his own longing staring back at him. He could forget his own name and still remember how Sanemi looked at that moment. 

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but their lips touched again. Brief, this time, with a calmness that came from knowing it was neither the first nor the last. 

They were barely apart again before Giyuu said, “I accept your proposal.”

Sanemi chuckled quietly. “You were the one interviewing.”

“Then, will you marry me?”

The words gave Sanemi such a start. He stumbled backwards onto his own hands, somehow still managing to be caught off guard. Giyuu tried to catch him but was equally unbalanced. 

They fell, Giyuu landing atop Sanemi. The whole ordeal did nothing to make Sanemi any less flustered. Giyuu, however, waited expectantly for the one thing he wanted to hear most. 

“I already told you-”

“I want to hear it again.” Giyuu took Sanemi’s own words and twisted it back at him. He supposed they always acted this way with each other. Two opposing forces that, in always clashing apart, somehow ended up cleaving together. “And I won’t repeat myself.”

Sanemi drew Giyuu close, speaking against his lips. “I will marry you.” 

Of the many things illuminated that night– the blinking light of fireflies, the dazzle of a thousand stars, the shine of moonlight against clear waters– Giyuu was happiest looking at the brightest spot in his life. For the first time, he could see the years that lay beyond them. Waking together, living together, being together. 

They would pay visits to old friends and masters together. They would get into arguments about what to have for dinner. They would smile and avoid nosey questions from the people in town. They’d share each bitter memory until it became bearable again and bask in the neverending promise made by their two lives entwined. All his love was right there before him. 

The first letter came, as most great things did, on a whim. Specifically, the whim of the new Young Master who continued to look after the Demon Slayers no matter how far they’ve wandered. 

Dear Shinazugawa, 

This is Tomioka Giyuu, the former Water Hashira.

The sentence made Sanemi laugh out loud for the first time in three months. How typical of Tomioka to announce himself in such a plain and straightforward manner. Sanemi was prepared to crumple the paper and toss it right then but the way Tomioka had squished the word “former” in between the spaces, a brutal reminder of this strange new world of peace, made him pause. He kept reading. 

I write to you at the Young Master Ubuyashiki’s request. He wishes to keep alive the shared honor and connection of the Corps. As the only two Hashira still active at the time of the Corps’ demilitarization, he advised we keep contact. 

A paper thin veneer. An excuse to keep bothering Sanemi even after all reasons to interact with one another were gone. It wasn’t enough that Sanemi lost everything. His purpose, his comrades, his only remaining family. All that was left were terrible reminders: the scars, the nightmares, and now this. 

Forced contact with his least favorite Hashira. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he realized Tomioka was the only other Hashira who would understand. 

There were a handful of retired Hashira still kicking but it was not the same. Retirement required a level of self-resignation. An understanding that your work was done and needed to be set aside for the next generation. Sanemi had no intention of ever retiring. He was certain he’d die before it became an option.

Most days, he wished he did. For the sake of the dead and departed, he carried on.

The rest of Tomioka’s letter was, surprise surprise, boring as hell. What did Sanemi care what he ate that day or who he saw? There was not a lot of variation in Tomioka’s daily habits even when they were on duty. Without demons to slay, his routine was borderline mechanical. 

I ate fish with plain rice today. The weather has been seasonably mild. I thought I saw an interesting bird while out on my walk but upon further inspection it was revealed to be a slightly misshapen leaf. 

Honestly, the audacity of Tomioka to keep sending these asinine letters knowing full well Sanemi was unable to reply. Sanemi used to accuse Tomioka of lacking guts. He would not say the same now.

-

The letters continued to come and, though he hated to admit it, Sanemi began looking forward to them. Their length and substance varied over the years. They first came with less frequency carrying brief descriptions of Tomioka’s life. 

Sanemi would read the short paragraphs with mild disinterest on his travels. After his injuries healed, Sanemi had every intention to return to his hometown. Marred as it was with bitter memories, it was also the only place he’d known something like happiness. 

After departing Butterfly Mansion, he started the journey home. He never made it. Somewhere along the way, his feet refused to take a single step towards his past. Thus began his life as a nomad. He had no roots to put down, and no one to ground him in one place for too long.

His hands itched for use but dedicating one’s life to a mission now complete rendered him useless. A living ghost among society. So he wandered, he ate his three meals a day, and he read Tomioka’s letters.

I received a visit from Tanjiro, Nezuko, and their friends today. It was a pleasant time, as always, yet I was sad afterwards. I do not understand why I experience the bouts of sudden melancholy. I keep telling myself, should we not be satisfied to be alive?

Sanemi was thankful he could not write back because he did not know the answer himself. He knew exactly what Giyuu was feeling. After he had woken up from the final battle, there was one word echoing throughout the hospital: lucky. Wasn’t he so lucky to be alive? Lucky to have kept all his arms and legs. How lucky was he, when so many had used up their fortune in battle? 

He did not feel particularly lucky. He wanted to shout at them. In the past, perhaps he would have. Worse than feeling lucky, though, was to feel ungrateful. He never knew he was not alone in this thought, until Tomioka’s letter. 

Spending his entire life slaying demons meant Sanemi had few other notable skills. He could not write, so any form of skilled work was closed off to him. His appearance was frightening, so customer service was out of the question. That left manual labor to fill Sanemi’s time in between his travels.

He liked that it kept him busy. Even though he’s lost a few fingers, years of honed battle experience meant he was still stronger and more resilient than the average person. The random nature of the tasks he’d find was stimulating enough to keep his feet moving. 

He helped elderly shopkeepers move heavy boxes. He tracked down and returned runaway farm animals. He made deliveries and passed messages along to so-and-so down the road. It was mindless work, in the sense that it kept his mind busy to not dwell on other things. 

More often, he’d catch himself wondering what Tomioka was up to at the same time. On rarer occasions, on days when Sanemi struggled to find reason to even open his eyes, he would replay the meager events of Tomioka’s uneventful days in his mind. Pretending that they were going about life at the same time, even though the words transcribed to him have already happened. 

Anything to fill the silence, Sanemi reasoned. 

-

There were always little things to hold onto. Tomioka had his visitors, his old trainer, and chores around his estate. From his letters, Sanemi extrapolated that looking forward to the next little thing helped make remaining in the present more bearable. 

With how life has slowed, I have found it easier to focus when there is some other future event to prepare for. I received an invitation from Uzui to visit his family next weekend. I do not know what we would talk about, and there is a risk that seeing him may bring up old sorrows, but I wish to go regardless. 

For Sanemi, his “little thing” was ohagi. 

It was borderline juvenile, how much those sweet red bean balls have become meaningful to his life. He couldn’t help it, though. No matter if it was a town, city, or rural village, if there was ohagi to be found Sanemi would find it. 

Not to mention, sometimes he’d even get the damn treats as a bonus for helping those who made them. Today, for example, he was living large. 

The current old woman he was helping out happened to run a shop which specialized in ohagi. All it took was a few hours of reorganizing her entire shop before he was rewarded with a whole plate, made fresh. 

He ate them with gratitude as she sat beside him. “It was good of you to help me. A lot of old folks like me complain about the youth, but I find that you kids are quite helpful these days.” 

Sanemi was not known to be the most elegant amongst his peers, but he learned enough manners to not talk with his mouth full. He listened as the old woman went on.

“Other than you, there’s this young gentleman living in a large estate nearby who is always helping the community. We used to not see him very much, I think his work kept him out of town, but lately he’s all anyone can talk about! You know, he saved us from some ruffians last month!”

A particular passage from one of Tomioka’s letters came to mind: Last week, I encountered bandits ambushing a local merchant. I drew my blade but they did not appear intimidated by a lone swordsman with only one arm. I resolved the situation quickly and alerted the proper town authorities. It was strange, to not have to fight until one’s opponent is dead. Although my blade was drawn for only a short moment, I am ashamed to admit the encounter left me feeling… exhilarated.

Sanemi recalled sympathizing, as he still carried his own blade with him. It was objectively good that they didn’t need to use their swords anymore. Yet, they had been using them for so long that the nichirin felt like an extension of his own body. To put that aside forever… Could anyone blame them for missing that part of themselves? 

“Sometimes he goes about town with these younger kids. How lively they are! It’s great for town business and I must say the red-headed one is such a nice young boy.” 

I brought Tanjiro and the others out to the market yesterday. It is better when they come with me because I do not need to make small talk with the local townspeople. They are friendly, but they ask too many questions that I do not know how to answer. How could I ever explain what I have experienced?

One last anecdote from the ohagi woman confirmed it. “For as handsome as he is, he can be quite awkward though. I still crack up thinking about that time he was helping someone cross the street and he smacked his head right into the storefront display! I laughed so hard I thought I would suffocate!” 

I spent longer running errands today because there was an elderly man in need of assistance. Later, I had a small headache.

The non sequitur between those sentences finally made sense now. The person this woman was talking about was none other than Tomioka Giyuu.

Sanemi handed a now-empty plate back to the ohagi woman and asked, “Where does this young gentleman live?” 

“Oh not too far from here. A bit into the woods, rather scary if you ask me, but if you’re brave enough perhaps you should pay him a visit. I’m sure he’ll be accommodating since you’re traveling all by yourself.” 

Sanemi smiled as he headed for the exit. “Maybe I will. Thank you again for everything.”

Outside, he walked until he hit a lonely trail leading into the forest. It was slightly uphill and had no travelers heading towards it. Up above, an old crow let out a weak caw as it flew deeper into the trees. If it spotted Sanemi, the bird gave no indication. There was no doubt this was the road to Tomioka’s Estate. 

Sanemi listened as the wind rustled against browning tree leaves, the first sign of the coming autumn. He turned around, and did not stop for rest until he hit the next town.

-

At some point throughout countless pages of letters, Sanemi started referring to Giyuu by his first name. He could not place when the switch happened. He had not even noticed until, one drunken night at some bar, he was relaying one of Giyuu’s stories to the barkeep and stammered upon hitting his name. 

He was telling one of the many funny stories Giyuu had written regarding his newfound hobby of keeping fish. A tipsy Sanemi slapped his knee. “Then he told me- he told me he got anxious ‘cause the damn fish wasn’t eatin’ his food! Like the fish is his own damn kid. Turns out, he was just feedin’ it shitty food and the fish was smart enough to notice! Spat a whole stream of pond water in his face!”

The barkeep roared with laughter, sliding over another drink. “This buddy of yours is priceless! I don’t know how you keep a straight face around him.”

“You’re right that he’s annoying as shit to be around,” Sanemi chuckled, “but really, Giyuu isn’t all bad.. G-Giyuu isn’t…”  

It was the first time he said it aloud but the shape of it coming out of his mouth was so familiar, he was sure he’d been calling him “Giyuu” for a long time now. There was a sudden, sharp ache at his heart which caused him to keep drinking until the black of sleep overtook him. 

When he woke up the next morning, head pounding as hard as his heartbeat, Sanemi made a second horrific discovery. Somewhere along the letters, Giyuu was no longer just writing to him. He was speaking to him. From last winter:

Shinazugawa, does the cold ever irritate the parts of your body that are no longer there? Every time I think I’ve adjusted to the emptiness where my arm used to be, there’s a new irritation. I wonder if you’ve ever experienced the same.

How did Sanemi not realize it before? He rummaged through the letters for a more recent one. Though kept all the papers for some nameless reason, he was terrible at keeping them sorted. Here was one from a month ago:

Do you still get nightmares? I thought I had found peace, with one month gone by of dreamless sleep. I was wrong. I dreamt of such terrible things but cannot recall any of the particular details. I know it must have been of that night. Most of them usually are, but sometimes I am reminded of older things. I try to imagine how you would handle it, but it is difficult to picture you frightened. You have always been unflinchingly brave.

Giyuu was wrong. Of course Sanemi still had nightmares. They never stopped. He doesn’t think it ever stops, not for the survivors. He dreamed of the dead calling his name. He dreamed of monstrous red eyes and sharp claws tearing at his skin. 

He dreamed more often than he’d have liked, often waking with a scream lodged in his throat. The sound never made it out. There was no point. No one was there to hear it anyway.

-

For as much detail and openness that Giyuu put into his letters, the one thing glaringly absent was an invitation to meet. It was selfish to want, Sanemi knew that, and for a long time he denied even wanting such a thing in the first place. It was presumptuous anyway. For all the time Giyuu has written to him, Sanemi has never once replied. 

His inability to was a surface-level excuse at this point. He could have taught himself, if he ever stayed one place long enough to learn. He could have asked someone to write on his behalf. Hell, he could have even relayed a message through the ohagi woman who lived in Giyuu’s town. He would go back to visit her every few months because she made ohagi better than anybody.

If she so happened to tell stories of the handsome young gentleman living in the large estate, it was entirely incidental. 

It wasn’t because lately, Giyuu was all that occupied Sanemi’s mind. That Giyuu was the one constant in a sea of changing faces and names. Towns he couldn’t quite recall the names of, people he would never see again after the final wave goodbye. No matter the season and no matter the distance, a letter was always waiting for him. 

Try as he might to avoid it, Sanemi’s self-imposed lifestyle left a lot of time for self-reflection. Of the conclusions he allowed himself to draw, two were constantly lingering. The first lingered in his legs: his movement was not entirely aimless. He traveled sporadically but not randomly. He was avoiding something, some place. Maybe even some people. 

The second conclusion lingered in his heart. It reverberated like the plucked strings of a shamisen with each piece of paper added to his belongings. It rose in his chest with each word read and each page turned. This conclusion Sanemi felt daily but refused to give a name.

Today he set out towards his next destination, which was wherever the cart he was riding on decided to stop. It was late summer and he managed to hitch a ride on some farmer’s covered wagon before he became caught in the heavy rain. The cart’s owner stopped them by the side of the road and was quietly napping in the corner while they waited out the storm.

Raindrops came down, heavy and commanding. It was the type of summer storm that demanded attention. Lightning streaking the sky with thunder bellowing after it. Sanemi felt each drop hit the wood of his covering, dampening the box and adding to the already suffocating humidity. 

He tried to shut his eyes too, but what appeared before him was instead a memory. 

He’d been out in rain like this once before, with Giyuu. 

There was a demon terrorizing a mountainside village. Giyuu and Sanemi arrived at the same time, from opposite directions. It was an unpleasant discovery, at the time, that they had to work together. Sanemi almost wanted to fight Giyuu for rights to the kill, but he wasn’t so stubborn as to sacrifice the well-being of humanity over something so petty. 

Sanemi barked, “Don’t get in my way,” and that was all they said to each other outside of the fight. The demon was nothing. A blip in the list of kills they had both racked up over the years. Whether it was the rain, or perhaps he just got used to working alone, Sanemi overextended himself. 

In the process of drawing his own blood to distract the demon, Sanemi cut himself too deep. A stupid mistake, even if it did work. Giyuu ended up helping Sanemi address his wounds afterwards at a nearby inn. 

Sanemi’s bloodstained haori lay to the side as Giyuu cleaned and bandaged his chest. The Water Hashira’s brows were furrowed in concentration. Sanemi remembered thinking that Giyuu moved too slow. He was used to the pain, he didn’t need to be so careful. Blood loss was to blame for not voicing those thoughts. 

After the last bandage was wrapped, Giyuu had trailed a finger along one of Sanemi’s older wounds. “This… is what you do to yourself?” 

When Sanemi looked down, it was the first time he really noticed Giyuu’s eyes. Two sharp pools of blue, gazing steadfast back at him. A wall of fury blinded Sanemi at the time. What he thought was a look of disgust, in hindsight, was actually horror. Not scared of Sanemi, but scared for him.

Sanemi had been too exhausted to respond, choosing instead to pull away from Giyuu’s grasp and head to bed. In the morning, Giyuu’s eyes were heavy and clouded.

“Did you even sleep at all?” Sanemi scoffed.

Giyuu shook his head. “I did not.” 

Sanemi remembered thinking how Giyuu wouldn’t be able to keep slaying demons if he intentionally weakened himself by not sleeping. Before they went their separate ways, Giyuu hesitated. He had called Sanemi’s name before choosing his next words carefully. 

“I wish you well on your next mission.”

Sanemi had taken it as an insult. “I don’t need your wishes. See you at the next Hashira meeting, if you’re still alive by then.”

He regretted his cruelty then, thinking back now. What’s more is that he’ll never be sure how Giyuu looked after saying that. Sanemi was certain, though, that Giyuu’s gaze lingered for at least a minute before the sound of his footsteps echoed Sanemi’s as they went towards their own missions, walking in opposite directions.  

-

Nezuko told me the other day that, when we were in recovery, people would come to speak to us in hopes of trying to wake us. She had called my name every day. I wish I remembered these gestures, to acknowledge everyone’s efforts, but I cannot. 

I recall you woke up before I did, if only by a few days. Did you ever come to see me? Though I have no evidence for it, sometimes it feels like you did. 

When Sanemi woke up for the first time in months, no one had been there. It was in the middle of the night, when even the nurses on duty were losing the battle against the allure of sleep. He had stared up at the ceiling of Butterfly Mansion for hours, cursing at the world until the sun came up and the morning nurse gave a start at his bloodshot eyes. 

What Giyuu said in the letter wasn’t news. Sanemi had witnessed it himself, how Tanjiro, Nezuko, and others would pile into Giyuu’s room. They never lost hope, bringing him gifts and talking to him as if he could respond. Sanemi could hear some of it from the next room over. 

It left him feeling hollow. He had no one. No corps members who wanted to check in on him. No surviving masters to say how proud they were of him. No remaining family– he did a fine job of ensuring that for himself. There wasn’t even anything left of Genya to remember him by. 

At the very least, Sanemi thought after a chance encounter with Nezuko in the hallway, his childlike smile could live on in others. 

Sanemi visited Giyuu only once. It was again, in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep. Sanemi figured that Giyuu would wake up soon after, but it had been a week and people were getting worried again. He had slipped in, noticed by none but the moon, and stood at Giyuu’s bedside. 

Almost every inch of Giyuu was covered in either blankets or bandages. Wake up, idiot, Sanemi could not bring himself to say, I don’t want to be alone in this. 

There was no response except for Giyuu’s barely-there breaths. Sanemi spent an unknown amount of time standing there in the room. At some point, gravity caused Giyuu’s hand to slip out of the blankets. The sudden movement almost made Sanemi run out, yet Giyuu did not wake. 

Sanemi released a shaky breath. He tucked Giyuu’s hand back under the blankets and went back to his own room. 

Giyuu regained consciousness soon after. Everyone was so relieved and hope was in the air once more. Sanemi spent the entire day with his ear pressed against the wall, letting the noise of others’ happiness fill his mind, and his empty room. 

-

The next letter came in the autumn. Sanemi was out in the farmlands helping a little girl search for her lost dog. He spent hours looking into logs and getting stuck in the mud only to find that a grand life in the wilderness was unsuitable for the damn pooch, and so he came back on his own. 

The family was grateful for his efforts and invited him to stay for dinner anyway. He sat on a bench outside as the smell of warm soup filtered up his nose, content to watch the sun set from there. The day had been rewarding, even if futile. He wondered what Giyuu might say if he were sitting beside him right now.

Though he tried not to dwell on it, Sanemi couldn’t help but lament over the lack of letters. For the past year, it seemed like he was getting one every week. Sanemi started to become dependent on them, relying on them the same way one needed to eat or sleep. 

If imagining a conversation with Giyuu didn’t work, Sanemi at least tried to picture an expressive reaction. It was difficult, though, to picture a smile you’ve never seen. The closest reference Sanemi had was when Giyuu would speak with Kocho. Even then, he was not privy to their private conversations and only saw them speak in passing at Hashira meetings.

He didn’t like to think of those meetings, or really any gatherings of the past, for too long. It gave him a full body ache that felt like all his old wounds acting up at once.

If imagined scenes did not work, Sanemi always reread the old letters. He started keeping one in his pocket for moments like these. The one currently nestled in the folds of his clothes was a lengthier anecdote of how Giyuu spent the new year. The edges of the paper were already worn.

A fragment of the bottom corner was about to tear off. Sanemi would have finished the job too, were it not for the distinct caw of a crow. 

A new letter, flown directly to Sanemi. He opened it at once. After the salutations and the pleasantries, Sanemi reached the true heart of the letter. 

I find myself thinking a lot about the future, as of late. I thought I was accustomed to living alone but lately the departure of each visitor leaves me with a sadness too deep to describe. I never had a vision for myself for what came after. I’m sure you understand what I mean, having both dedicated our lives to the eradication of demons. 

People have asked and continued to ask about what I plan to do next. The lack of an answer never bothered me until now. “Next” was a luxury I never afforded myself. It wasn’t until a visit to my old master, the former Water Hashira, that he suggested I seek more permanent companionship. 

Every fiber of Sanemi’s being told him to stop reading. His eyes wouldn’t listen as they traveled on.

At first I dismissed the notion but the idea will not leave my head. It is sensible, I think. Though I can manage my own affairs, it would be foolish to think I can continue on my own with my injuries as they are. One day I will need help to pick something up or put something on. When that day comes, I do not wish to be alone. 

I am going to get married. I do not know to whom yet but it is a process I intend to undertake. I have begun to make inquiries as to…

The rest of the letter blurred. 

Sanemi flipped the letter to the back, then forward again. He read the sentence before, then the sentence after. If there was to be additional context, Giyuu certainly did not provide it within the four corners of his letter. With no further explanation, Sanemi was stuck rereading those same six words over and over again until they etched as deeply as the scars covering his body. 

I am going to get married.

He was a fool to think Giyuu would remain stationary. It had been so long, though, and the letters so consistent. Each delivery breathed meaning into Sanemi’s teetering existence. It had been easy to allow the Giyuu gleaned from years of accumulated letters to form into a perfect little companion given shape in Sanemi’s mind. 

Sanemi had been content to delve headfirst into those delusions. That Giyuu would write the letters with as much anticipation and care as Sanemi received them. That somehow through the machinations of the universe, Giyuu would feel as deeply as Sanemi felt. 

That there was even the smallest possibility Giyuu would care for a person who he has not seen, not spoken to, not even heard of in over five years. 

It was a dream, and it was time for Sanemi to wake up.

The bowl of soup had gone cold in his hands. 

What happened next, Sanemi accomplished without a single shred of sanity left in mind. He became an entity powered entirely off years of aching loneliness. 

It began as a slow walk, sluggish and disoriented. 

How many days did Giyuu wait before he put these thoughts down? How long did it take for the crow to reach him? 

His pace quickened to a jog. 

Giyuu could have waited until after he wed, but he did not. Was there a reason? Did it have some sort of meaning? 

Sanemi was sprinting now. Even if he was halfway across Japan, Sanemi was sure he would not have stopped running. His breath came out in fiery bursts. He pushed himself the hardest he’s pushed in years. The wind was on his side, cascading favorably behind him and sweeping along his feet. 

The outline of Giyuu’s village appeared just before twilight. He moved past the familiar buildings, the storefronts he frequented, the townsfolk who now knew his image if not his name. Then, for the first time in his life, he took the forest trail through the woods and up the hill.

It was completely dark by the time he reached Giyuu’s estate. Nothing illuminated the way except the pale moonlight, a smattering of stars, and the dying candlelight. Sanemi did not know how late it was, and he did not have the sense to care. 

His fist pounded at the entrance, each heavy thud mimicking the one in his chest. 

The door opened slowly. Sanemi had to take a step back, to let the weak light reach the figure standing before him. There he was.

Hair black as the night, now cut short. He looked healthier and more vibrant than Sanemi ever imagined. Most striking of all were his eyes, as blue as the deep ocean, widened in alarm. Giyuu blinked rapidly, as if he could not believe the sight before him. His mouth, which had always been schooled in perfect composure, now hung agape. 

Sanemi was out of breath from more than just the run. He propped himself up against the entryway, rasping. “Hi.” 

Sanemi could leave, pretend he never saw a thing, and maybe walk into moving traffic. Instead, he stayed and watched, committing each new expression Giyuu made to memory. His eyes were pondlike, big round pools of clarity. Did he always use his hands so much when he talked? The other person said something, and Giyuu pouted. 

Sanemi wished it was him. He wished more than anything.

Who was it that Giyuu was talking to anyway? Sanemi could only see the back of the person’s head. Peach colored hair and a hoodie with the same pattern as that one pocket from Giyuu’s favorite sweater. Sanemi’s heart ached at the implication. 

His legs, those slow and disobedient appendages of his, moved forward. 

Giyuu noticed him. Sanemi expected his smile to fade when Giyuu looked at him, resigned himself to be the thief of joy. When they locked eyes, Giyuu’s smile didn’t falter one bit. There was a hint of surprise, which softened into something like relief. 

How… how could he still look at Sanemi like that?

The other also turned around.

The newcomer’s expression gave him pause. There was no animosity, yet it was definitely not welcoming. Two clear eyes pierced through him, serious and scrutinizing. It suddenly felt like Sanemi was walking up to an old warrior, or perhaps… Oh no, please don’t be some sort of long-lost childhood first love. 

No, that was a bit too far-fetched even for Sanemi’s imagination. Still, he got a feeling that he should make himself scarce. 

Sanemi was about to turn around, but Giyuu gave such a shout that it surprised even the peach-haired boy. “Sanemi, wait!” 

Giyuu ran up to Sanemi and grabbed his hand. “I need to talk to you. Please, don’t go.” 

His brain was broken. Malfunctioned. Maybe Shinobu secretly poisoned him or something during their conversation. There was no way. 

Giyuu jogged them both over to the new person. “Giyuu, who is this?”

“Sabito, this is Sanemi. He, um, he and I are…” 

Right. Thanks to Sanemi’s brilliant stunt, they weren’t quite able to figure that part out yet. “Boyfriend” was too presumptive, even if it made Sanemi’s stomach flip. They’d blown far past “friends,” and “yet to be determined because we just kissed” was a mouthful.

“I’m Sabito.” A hand was extended, far more frail than Sanemi expected. The accompanying introduction was anything but. “Giyuu’s best friend.” 

Sanemi took the hand and gave his own name with confidence. He wouldn’t back down, not now. 

“It’s nice to put a face to the name. We were just talking about you.” The way Sabito spoke reminded Sanemi a little of Shinobu. There wasn’t quite the same calculation involved, yet there was an assuredness in how they spoke. 

Giyuu wasn’t expecting his friend to admit that. He seemed younger when he interacted with his friend, more innocent. “Sabito!” 

Sabito ruffled Giyuu’s hair. He was probably the only person who got to do that. 

For now. 

“You’ve had a busy day, Giyuu. Maybe it’s best if I go and we catch up another time.” 

“No!” Giyuu took Sabito’s hand to anchor him down. “You said yourself how rare it is that you can go outside unsupervised.”

 Giyuu hadn’t let go of Sanemi’s hand since he first took it. It all felt rather elementary, like the trio were about to skip to the playground and sing nursery rhymes the only way elementary schoolers could. Loudly, and unabashedly off-key. Giyuu’s didn’t want either to leave but what were the three of them supposed to do? Sanemi didn’t even know this guy! 

Sabito must have had the same thought. He looked at their linked hands, then back to Giyuu. “So what do you propose we do?”

-

Sanemi did not want to sound like Giyuu, but was he on a date? Better question. Was he third-wheeling alongside someone else’s date? 

“You still inhale salmon like your life depends on it.”

“You only say that because you’re not eating anything.”

“The hospital keeps me on a strict diet.”

Giyuu ended up taking them to someplace that served simmered fish. Salmon with daikon was apparently Giyuu’s favorite. A factoid that totally didn’t please Sanemi immensely, now that he knew it. They crammed into a booth near the back of the restaurant. Sabito and Giyuu sat next to each other, Sanemi their opposite.

Sanemi could see where Giyuu picked up some of his mannerisms. Over the course of the conversation, he learned that Sabito used to go to their school, but had to drop out due to his ailing health. Although recovery has not been linear, today was one of the rare days where Sabito could get out by himself. Giyuu fussed over him so much, Sanemi couldn’t help but take concern as well.

“Surely at least some soup wouldn’t kill ya?” Sanemi offered a steaming cup of miso. Sabito prepared to refuse, but decided against it. 

Giyuu, pleased at the development, excused himself from the table to use the restroom. 

The tension was palpable, and not the fun kind. 

As soon as Giyuu was out of earshot, Sabito put down the soup. Sanemi was halfway done with his fish but set down his chopsticks so the other could talk. 

“So, you’re in love with Giyuu.” Thank god Sanemi stopped eating otherwise he’d be choking on bones right now. Sabito didn’t give him time to recover. “I’m assuming you must be, because that should be the only reason you’d kiss Giyuu. In a storage closet, no less.” 

Well when it was put like that, Sanemi felt kind of like a creep. Crap, did Sabito think Sanemi was a creep? He messed up the best friend introduction already?

“Then again, you ran out on him right after. So perhaps I’m mistaken and you don’t have feelings for Giyuu. In which case-” Sabito leaned forward, threat evident in his eyes - “You’re going to apologize to him and never show your face at the school again. Giyuu doesn’t need distractions like you.” 

Was this guy scientifically designed in a lab to piss him off or something? Sanemi knew he fucked up, but he wasn’t such an ass or a spineless wimp that he’d stand being called a distraction. “If you think you can scare me off, it ain’t working. I don’t owe you an explanation, and I sure as hell don’t owe you talk about my feelings before I’ve even had the chance to talk to Giyuu about it.” 

“If you aren’t toying with him, why’d you run?” 

“I’m not toying with him, and I’m still trying to figure my shit out.”

Sabito leaned back and took a long, pointed sip from his cup. Sanemi was not one to be intimidated, but damn if Sabito didn’t have a demanding presence. “You should’ve figured your shit out first, before you kissed him.”

Sanemi already heard all this from Shinobu. He didn’t need some stranger telling him again. “Who are you, his mom?”

“You’d know who I was if you knew Giyuu at all.” There it was, the trump card. Sanemi was expecting it to land, but it still stung.

“Maybe I don’t know Giyuu very well but I’m trying, okay? He’s not exactly a talker.” Nor was Sanemi, yet they’ve somehow continued to orbit each other. “You don’t know me either. You wanna know my intentions? Fine. I’m serious about him. But beyond that? You don’t get to know.” 

Sanemi wasn’t going to let himself get interrogated. Sabito wasn’t a cop. Even if he was, Sanemi wasn’t gonna talk to a cop! More importantly, he respected Giyuu too much to be talking in his absence. Giyuu deserved to hear everything from Sanemi himself, not by accident and not through the translation work of Sabito. 

“Sanemi, you haven’t finished eating?” Giyuu was back. 

The rest of their time was uneventful. Sanemi was fine with taking the backseat while Giyuu and Sabito caught up. Okay “fine” was a stretch, but it was nice to see this side of Giyuu. Never did Sanemi think that he’d be privy to a deeper part of Giyuu’s life, let alone be sitting right across the table from it. With Giyuu, Sabito was also unguarded and easygoing. He was also really, really happy to hear that Giyuu was a Hashira. 

“I’m glad you didn’t give up.” Sabito threw his arm around Giyuu like it was nothing. Asshole. 

Giyuu was none the wiser. “Me too.” 

The sun was hitting the low point in the sky that turned everything purple and blue. They stood on the sidewalk for the long goodbye. Sabito needed to check back into the hospital. 

Before he left, he made a show of hugging Giyuu close. Lips to ear, Sabito whispered something Sanemi couldn’t hear. The bastard was standing too far away, and Sanemi was too courteous to pry closer. Sabito held Sanemi’s gaze for the duration of the entire exchange. Message received loud and clear.

Whatever he said made Giyuu gasp. “Sabito!”

Sabito broke eye contact, only to stand up straight and place a gentle kiss on Giyuu’s forehead. “I mean it. Think about it, okay?” 

“I… alright.” Giyuu spoke as if it was the first time he’d ever been at a loss for words around Sabito. Judging by the shock on his face, it might actually be true.

Sanemi never wanted to punch someone so badly. It sucked all the more because Sabito was the one person off-limits to said punching. Sanemi knew Giyuu’d take a bullet rather than let that happen. It just made Sanemi want to punch him more. 

Sabito’s eyes creased in a gentle smile before leaving. Giyuu watched as Sabito walked away, and Sanemi watched Giyuu. 

-

“I’ll take your hand in marriage if it means keeping unworthy fools away from you.” Sabito whispered into Giyuu’s ear right before he left. 

He had meant it, too. What in the world was happening? He went from having never kissed anyone in his life to having two people kiss him in a day. Sabito’s was only on the head, but still. 

More questions swam in Giyuu’s head than ever before. Romance never once crossed his mind before the school year started. If all of it was this exciting, Giyuu didn’t know if he could handle it.

Correction, he was not handling it well at all. 

He needed to lie down for a day, a week at most. Why would Sabito say such a thing? Something must have been said during the interim when Giyuu went to the bathroom. Curse his natural bodily functions for working as intended. Both Sabito and Sanemi had strong personalities, but what in the world could Sanemi have said to provoke Sabito into proposing marriage?

Giyuu couldn’t get married, he’d only just been kissed! 

No, it must be a joke. It had to be. But it was unlike Sabito to treat such a topic lightly. Did the long hospital stay warp his sense of humor? Was he put on some new medication with the side effect of spontaneous matrimonial propositions? 

He needed to think. He was tired of thinking. He-

“We can do this tomorrow.” 

Sanemi! In his internal panic, Giyuu almost forgot why he started panicking in the first place. 

“You probably want to go home and sleep forever, right? I promise I won’t hold it against you or run away again.”

He turned around and saw Sanemi, hands shoved in pockets, under the spotlight of the streetlamp, waiting for him. Giyuu did want to go home, but for some reason the urge fell away as soon as Sanemi put the thought into words. It was in how he said it, sad but understanding.

Sanemi could’ve left at any point. He had no reason to stay other than for Giyuu’s sake. Now he was offering to leave even though it would have wasted so much of his valuable time. 

Because that’s the kind of person Sanemi was. 

Giyuu shook his head. “I don’t want to go. Not until we’ve talked first.” 

There was one big question he wanted answered right now. 

Sanemi was at last ready to give it. “I owe you an explanation.” 

“You do.” Giyuu said. “Why did you kiss me and then leave so quickly?”

“Because I…” Giyuu’s heart rate picked up as soon as Sanemi began his sentence. All this from mere anticipation? Surely not. Hope. Yes, that’s it. Giyuu was hoping Sanemi would say something specific. “Because I have feelings for you.” 

All that hope culminated into a firework of desire, and burst little sparks in Giyuu’s heart. 

“I guess to be clear, I like you. I might even love you, I’m sorry if that’s too much. Shit, um.” The longer Giyuu stared, the worse Sanemi became at expressing himself. “I ran away. It was a shitty thing to do. I’m sorry for that. Guess I couldn’t handle how much you made me feel. Which is good! By the way, you make me feel good and that made me feel… bad? Not that you make me feel bad, but… The-the point is… I’m sure you’ve got the point by now. I’ll stop. Talking.” 

Two different kisses. Two different confessions. How popular he was. It irked him how he could hear both Sanemi and Sabito tease him about it in his head, even if they were right there. No, he must avoid getting his wires crossed.

Sabito hadn’t meant it as a genuine love confession, right? In all the years they’ve been together, Giyuu never got the impression of anything romantic. Yet he all but proposed just now! How did Sabito mean for it to come across? As a guarantee, a surety? The promise of security like he was some low-interest mortgage? 

And if it was a love confession, then… Giyuu didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what to say to Sanemi right now. 

He should probably say something to Sanemi right now.

Giyuu saw the fear in Sanemi’s eyes, the nerves in how his head hung low. A deepseated urge arose, one that reared its head all too often and made Giyuu want to ease all of Sanemi’s worries. He cleared his throat in hopes that Sanemi would pay attention to him instead of the sidewalk. 

“I was happy. When you kissed me, I was happy.” He started off with the conclusion he’s already drawn. Where they would take him, Giyuu was unsure. He tried to speak candidly. “But then you ran so quickly. I didn’t want you to go. I-” 

Sanemi deserves more credit. This stuff was incredibly hard. Each word took more effort to say than the next. He was hot, or perhaps it was only his face that was on fire.

“I wanted to find you, but then Sabito texted saying he was outside. Then you came too and-” Recounting the day’s events was getting him nowhere- “What I mean to say is… is…” 

Oh no. What did Giyuu mean to say?

“I get it.” Sanemi’s voice deflated. No, this wasn’t what Giyuu wanted to happen. “I’m sorry again for abandoning you like that. You deserve someone who has their shit figured out.” 

Sanemi cringed at the end of his sentence, like he hadn’t wanted to admit it. 

Giyuu didn’t understand. If it was a question of deservedness, Sanemi easily placed above Giyuu. Didn’t he realize how helpful he was to Giyuu, how much patience and kindness he’s shown?

 “Don’t think that way. I don’t want you to think that of yourself or of me.” 

“Well?” Sanemi brushed a few strands of hair out of his eyes. Under the fluorescent lamp, the color was lighter. Two pale petals of lilac pleaded for an answer. “What do you think of me then?” 

“I think… I think…” That was the problem. 

Sanemi didn’t make Giyuu think, he never really did. 

Sanemi made Giyuu feel. He made Giyuu feel at a depth he didn’t even know was possible. “You make me out of breath sometimes, even when I’m not moving. Sometimes when I look at you, I feel like I can’t sit still.”

Giyuu took a step forward, then another.

“I have a hard time sleeping if you cross my mind in the night. I can’t go to the bakery without wondering if you’d like something from there. For the past week I wanted to see you and I was so glad when you found me in the halls.” 

Giyuu was close enough to read every emotion in Sanemi’s eyes. He hoped his own conveyed what he desperately needed the other to grasp.

“I don’t have answers for you. I don’t. But I want you to stay.” Giyuu held onto Sanemi’s hands, shaky as they both were. “Stay with me, please.” 

A tug, gentler than the first time. Arms wrapped around Giyuu, holding him by his waist. Sanemi held him close. Giyuu was worried for a moment that Sanemi would try to kiss him again. Not that it would be bad, but Giyuu feared it would be too much. He already spent the day running on lightning. 

Unlike before, there was no hurry. Sanemi guided Giyuu’s head under his own. Flowers again, Giyuu was pleased to find as his nose nudged Sanemi’s neck. 

Giyuu closed his eyes, and let the noise fall away. There was no buzzing or ringing. No spiralling or self-doubt. It wasn’t that his brain was put to sleep entirely, but rather one sound overrode the usual noise in his mind. Quiet, a soft thump, then quiet. 

Sanemi’s heartbeat, thrumming in the night. 

Sanemi hated how Giyuu carried himself. At first, it appeared like he was a solitary, unfeeling man but it was painfully obvious that Giyuu was accommodating to a fault. Someone who would suffer a mountain of discomfort rather than inconvenience another. 

Not this time. 

No, Sanemi would make sure of it. He owed it to Giyuu to respect the flat rejection he knew he’d receive. Sanemi would stay away. He’d ensure Giyuu never felt pressured to be nice to someone who so grievously took advantage of the situation. 

God, why did Sanemi have to kiss him? He’d always been so sure of his self-control but when their lips brushed the first time, any shred of logic flew out. Instinct, action, and a kiss was all that was left in its wake. 

Sanemi must have known, deep inside, that if he didn’t kiss Giyuu then he’d never be able to at all. That thought caused the final string to snap. He felt all the more sick for it. A coward like him couldn’t even look Giyuu in the eye after pulling away, too afraid of what he’d see. 

He pushed two giant doors out the way, tumbling outside. The afternoon sun stung his eyes, a stark contrast to the dim storage closet where he left his love behind. He ran a few more paces until his legs were gelatinous. 

Sanemi collapsed onto a bench, staring out towards the track field. 

Empty. 

“Shinazugawa, what a surprise to see you down there.” A feminine voice came from above. Sanemi was forced to pause his self-loathing and look. Shinobu waved at him from one of the library windows. He did all that running just to lap back to where he started? “Everything alright with you?”

“Really not in the mood, Kocho.” Sanemi flipped her off. It was uncalled for, he knew that, but it beat having to talk about… about any of it. Her head disappeared and that was that.

Or so Sanemi thought. 

Not five minutes later and his wallowing was interrupted again as Shinobu sat beside him.

“I mean it. I don’t wanna talk.” Sanemi tilted his head back to look at the sky. The rough wood of the bench rubbed up against his neck. “If you want to check in on someone that badly, I’m not the guy you’re looking for.”

 “Ah, are you referring to a certain Mr. Tomioka? How thoughtful that you’re always minding after him.” 

Sanemi tried to block it out, but the honest part of him relished in the kiss. Giyuu was as soft as a dream. Softer than he deserved. 

“Don’t think he’d consider me very thoughtful anymore.”

“Oh?” It only took the inquisitive tilt of her head before Sanemi spilled. 

Screw her for always knowing where and when to push the needle in. For as long as Sanemi’s known her, Shinobu always possessed the uncanny ability to get him where she wanted him. She was the closest thing to having a younger sister near his age. Thank fuck she wasn’t. 

Or maybe Sanemi was losing it. For a while now he felt himself slowly unravelling. A spool of thread cut down the middle, tiny strings bursting out. Jarring, haphazard, as the blade cut him through to the end. 

He told her everything. He was clutching his head as he finished while she stared off to la la land, gazing at invisible butterflies. 

“So you don’t think he likes you back.”

“I know so, didn’t you hear what I said? He called it a mistake the first time and I ignored him anyway. Why would he ever bother with me again?”

“Because maybe, just maybe, he might return your feelings. Did you even try to ask or figure out what he feels?”

Sanemi got up and kicked the nearest object. “Are you listening? He doesn’t want me, end of story! He wouldn’t be in his right mind if he did!” 

 A sizable pebble darted across the empty field. They watched as it began its ascent into the air before curving down, clattering in dull thuds along the short grass. He sat back down, feeling ridiculous. 

“Why are you always so angry?” 

Sanemi only had time to deflect. “You’re one to talk.” 

Shinobu liked to act so cool all the time but Sanemi knew rage when he saw it, even if hers simmered low and dangerous. 

“Yes but the difference is I know why I’m angry. You, on the other hand, haven’t seemed to have figured it out yet.” She didn’t even look at him as they spoke. It should’ve pissed Sanmi off more, but he was taken aback. 

More aptly, he was simply taken back. To a time when days were shorter, but all the more difficult.

Sanemi’s father was a certified asshole. The whole town knew it. Drunkard, cheapskate, a cheat. All the terrible things a man could be. On days when his mother’s voice trembled, when his siblings holed up in their rooms, Sanemi prayed their father would disappear. Not in a grim manner but one where the family would awake one day to find the world light again. They could all read, and sing, and play as they’d like and it would be as if their father never existed in the first place.

The day finally came. There was a knock on the door. Voices laden with thin caution, unsure whether the news they bore was good or bad. Their father was gone.

The world did not turn light. 

Sanemi learned that wishing for something, having it come true, didn’t matter at all. What use was a wish if it didn’t pay the bills? What good was divine mercy to a boy turned man of the house? The home did not deteriorate all at once, until it did.

Sanemi wasn’t home when it happened. He had wanted to go out and play with his friends, same as any other boy. He pleaded with his mother. Go ahead, she told him, we’ll be fine. He came up to his front door and found people already there. 

Adults, the scary kind. 

Neighbors noticed, they said. The piling dishes, the thin-boned children, the weak mother. Reports were made. Concerned calls to unfeeling agencies. There were documents and inspections and so, so many questions. Their mother was separated from them for some time. Most of his siblings were too young to remember, save for the oldest two. 

Genya cried the whole time, the words etched into Sanemi’s mind like a burn mark. Why weren’t you here? This is all your fault! 

Sanemi’s memories tapered off here, too blurry to recount in detail. Only that his voice was hoarse from arguing with the agency people. Begged and begged until they went away. When it was over, his mother sank to her knees and wouldn’t look at any of them. Siblings huddled together in one bed. Sanemi crouched alone in their front hallway the entire night, in case anyone else came for them. 

He would make it all better. He’d take care of everyone from now on. 

He never forgave himself, and he stopped going out to play. 

-

Who was he angry at? His father was a cheap answer, a problem too late to solve. His mother was too easy to blame, and he truly didn’t. No, his family was at his heart’s center and his rage was their shield. A contained wildfire that burned whoever got too close.

“I’m an angry person,” Why was he angry? He just was. It pointed in no particular direction. “Deal with it.”

“You deal with it,” Shinobu retorted. “Except you aren’t doing that very well now, are you?” 

Did she always have to be so correct about everything? Sanemi sucked in a breath, oxygen fanning the fires. “I don’t know what else to be!” 

Shinobu said nothing after his outburst, forcing them both to sit in it. World record holder in making him feel foolish with the fewest words. A dragonfly landed on her knee. It didn’t move when she turned towards him. 

“It’s alright to be scared. It’s also alright to be disappointed in yourself. To not like yourself. I’m familiar with all these feelings. I used to feel them all the time. But a certain white-haired busybody wouldn’t stop checking in on me. Helped me realize that you can’t let those things freeze you. That there’s people waiting for you on the other side.” 

“You make it sound like I’m some hero.”

“Goodness, no. I wouldn’t go that far.” Shinobu had such a way with words. “But perhaps a decent person. Can you give yourself at least that?” 

A long moment passed between them, silence stretched like an aching muscle. Sanemi couldn’t remember the last time he was made to stop and think in this way. He felt clumsy, confused. He didn’t want to say anything, admit to anything. 

Shinobu took his silence as an answer itself. She stood, armed with one final, rhetorical question. “I wonder what Giyuu would think, if he knew the person he’s been trying to cheer up all this time has been sabotaging all his efforts.” 

Shinobu left him sitting there, feeling like a complete asshole. At the same time, he was impressed. Shinobu’s grown over the years into a confident, intelligent, and the single most frustrating person he’s come to care for. Their little chat made him restless again. 

Energy returned to his bones. 

He needed to find Giyuu. He’ll take it, whatever the other had to say to him. Sanemi would make sure there were no hurt feelings, and if he could find the courage he’d make his own feelings known. Sanemi may or may not be a decent person, but Giyuu at the very least deserved decency. 

He decided to take the long way around to build courage. 

Wishful images of Giyuu entered his mind, and he let them be. Giyuu’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smiles, his thoughtful eyes, his melodic laugh. The sound was so real, Sanemi wondered if it was all a mirage. He walked closer to the school gates and could see Giyuu. 

Smile bright, eyes clear as the sea. Laughing. 

Sanemi rubbed his eyes. 

A trick of the light? Another insomnia-induced hallucination? 

No, he was quite well and awake. 

Except if it wasn’t a mirage, and Giyuu was really there, then who the fuck was that?

-

Giyuu sprawled on the floor, dazed. His right hand was still outstretched, reaching for a long-gone body. His left cupped his mouth, as if protecting something sacred. 

Sanemi kissed him. Giyuu just had his first kiss. Sanemi kissed him. Sanemi also ran away. Why did he run away? He apologized twice. What was he sorry for? Did he feel bad about what transpired? Did Sanemi regret the kiss? Sanemi kissed him.

A whirlpool of emotions spun Giyuu senseless. His whole being oscillated with conflicting emotions, switching in and out. Airiness in his chest is crushed by self-doubt, only to be uplifted when he recalls Sanemi’s touch. His whole face is on fire. His legs are frozen. A buzzing vibration shook his whole body. He never felt so many emotions in rapid succession. 

What did he feel? Descriptors rattled around in his pinball machine mind. Happy. Perplexed. Shy. Surprised. Enamoured. Terrified. Hopeful. Puzzled. Anxious. Enthralled. Bad. Good. Happy, happy, happy. 

He thinks he’s happy. 

His hands fall limp at his sides. The warmth on his lips dissipated. 

He thinks he’ll be happy only if Sanemi is. 

The storage closet door creaks open, fireball head poking in. Flame bright eyes widened at the state of the room. “Giyuu! What a mess, are you alright?” 

Self-awareness returned to Giyuu like a truck crashing into a telephone pole. Glossy textbook pages covered half his legs, splayed out unnaturally. He must look like an idiot! 

“My mistake, Kyojuro. I’ll clean this up at once.” Giyuu tried to get up, but a sharp sting from his back made him wince. “Ow.”

Kyojuro clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Safety precautions should be put in place to prevent accidents. I’ll bring it up at our next meeting. Stay right where you are, Giyuu. I’ve got it.”

Giyuu wanted to protest, but his spine begged to differ. He watched as Kyojuro tidied up at an impressive speed. Books were picked off the floor and packed up in neat boxes, placed lower to the ground this time. Kyojuro offered to take Giyuu to the nurse, but he declined. 

“Are you sure?” Kyojuro scrutinized Giyuu’s face. “You are flushed! Your hands look clammy, and I can almost hear your heartbeat from here. Not to mention, wasn’t Sanemi supposed to be in here as well?”

Giyuu couldn’t come up with a lie, let alone two. Even if he could, he was not in the right state to sound convincing. Perhaps it was easier to talk to Kyojuro, having already completed an awfully embarrassing conversation about their ‘dates’ earlier that year. 

Giyuu told him the truth.

“You and Sanemi, eh? Congratulations!” Kyojuro noticed his uneasy expression. “Or is this not a cause for celebration?” 

“I don’t know.” Giyuu kept looking at the door, as if Sanemi would come back any minute now. “He just apologized and left. I’m unsure what that means, or how he feels.”

Kyojuro handled the issue like any other. Directly. “Confusing indeed! You should find him and ask him then!”

Go up to Sanemi and talk about it? Like a normal and well-adjusted person? No way! Giyuu was not normal and certainly not well-adjusted! If he spoke to Sanemi and something bad came about as a result… He’d rather find a ditch and curl up there for the rest of his days. 

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“Why not?” Kyojuro asked. “You’ll never feel better until you do.”

That may well be true, but it wasn’t like Giyuu ever put much thought to self-soothing. Forget “better.” Giyuu lived with all the disappointments and inadequacies that comprised his personhood for years now. The weight of it was so well-incorporated, it might as well be the backpack he carried to school or the jacket he wore every day. 

Besides, talking things out, learning the truth, none of it promised a good outcome. Sometimes having hopes and dreams wasn’t worth the cost.

-

Sabito was the smart one, always was. Growing up together, Giyuu never minded tagging along as Sabito climbed the ranks. He watched his friend receive praise from the teachers, scoring top mark after top mark. Sabito was a blossom in the snowstorm, a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon. 

Sabito was too selfless for his own good.

Last year, Sabito made Giyuu promise to try harder at school. “You have so much potential, Giyuu. Wouldn’t it be fun if we could both join the student council?” 

They sat outside for lunch. It was spring, and the cherry blossoms overhead were in full bloom. Giyuu picked at the rice in his lunchbox. “My grades can’t compare to yours. Plus, I have no need to join the student council. You can just tell me about it after school.”

“C’mon, have a little faith in yourself. You’re as cut out to be a Hashira as I would be.” A patently untrue statement, but Sabito was always the idealist. The taller boy slung his arm around Giyuu’s shoulder. “How about we both work extra hard to make it, eh? Tutoring, cram sessions, the whole works.”

Giyuu agreed on a whim because it was hard to deny Sabito anything. He didn’t realize how serious his friend was about studying until the hard work began. 

They spent hours together, at the library, in each other’s homes, taking supplemental lessons with Mr. Urokodaki. Improvement did not come easily to Giyuu, but Sabito was there to pick up his slack. He answered any questions Giyuu had, going over each question with a fine-tooth comb until Giyuu knew it by heart. 

Somewhere along the way, Giyuu began to want. He started to see better for himself. A future where others could rely on him, and his sister would see all that he’s done, and she’d smile. 

Giyuu didn’t remember when the first coughs began. It was innocuous, at first. A sore throat. Sparse sneezes. Soon Sabito didn’t go anywhere without a hot water bottle. Pastel colored pills rattled next to the pencils in his bag. Looking at someone’s face everyday, it was easy to dismiss the gradual changes until Giyuu blinked and saw his old friend hollowed out. 

Sabito didn’t come to school one day. It was the rainy season, and the first absence in Sabito’s entire life. Giyuu tried to find him, and was directed to the hospital. 

“How long have you been sick?” Giyuu stared, fearful and furious at the sight. 

Sabito, once strong and confident, now covered in white blankets. Frail as a dying flower. “I think I always was. Doctors said I was lucky to have been active as long as I was.”

It was his smile, unapologetic and careless, that made Giyuu sink to his knees. “Why did you push yourself so hard? You even lent me your umbrella last week and got soaked in the rain! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were doing so well!” Sabito laughed. How dare he laugh? “Who am I to slow you down?” 

“No, no. You were doing so well! Why did you waste all that extra time on me? You should have been resting!” 

Sabito beckoned Giyuu to come closer. Giyuu inched forward until his knees hit the bedside. He buried his face into Sabito’s blankets. 

“Do you remember what you told me three summers ago? You wanted to be a top student so that you could take care of others. To live up to your sister’s dreams, since she had to leave school to begin working before she could graduate.” Sabito ran a soothing hand along Giyuu’s hair. “Of course I had to help you. I’d do it all over again without hesitation.”

Tears pooled around Giyuu’s eyes, droplets melting into the sheets. “That doesn’t matter! None of it matters if you- If you can’t-”

“Giyuu!” Sabito never raised his voice like this before. The sound made Giyuu stop crying at once. “How dare you say that you don’t matter? You and your dreams matter to us. To me, to your sister, to Mr. Urokodaki. We don’t pity you. We want you to succeed!” 

Sabito made Giyuu swear to keep going. Told him that he’d never see Giyuu again if he failed his exams on purpose. Giyuu threw himself into studying, but he stopped asking for help. Even if it took him two times, ten times longer to figure it out, it was better than wasting another person’s time. 

His sister told him he should go out more. Giyuu only left the house for school and to visit Sabito at the hospital. Eventually, Sabito became too sick to accept visitors. 

Giyuu still tries to text him every now and then. 

Most days, Sabito is unable to respond. 

-

Giyuu couldn’t stay in the closet forever. Kyojuro walked them out and insisted that Giyuu head home. “I can’t force you to talk, but at least take care of your health.” 

Sleep, that was the best remedy for an uneasy mind. Maybe he should head home and talk to his sister. Even when he tried to hide his problems, not wanting to add to her burdens in addition to her stressful job, she always sniffed out when he had something to get off his chest. 

“Kyojuro, I have a question to ask you.” Giyuu ought to try and work this out on his own first. Besides, talking to his sister about his love life was one of the last conversations he ever wanted to have.

“Oh? You want to pretend I’m Sanemi and practice asking me out?” The joke was so out of left field for someone like Kyojuro. 

It took a second for Giyuu to get it, and then suddenly the mood lifted to a pleasant familiarity. “No. I wanted to ask, how are you always so certain that things will turn out alright?”

Kyojuro laughed. “I’m not! But we are among friends. What’s so scary about that?”

There was that word again, friends. Perhaps Giyuu was underestimating his fellow Hashira, and himself, all along. 

Giyuu bid farewell to Kyojuro. He planned to go home and get a good night’s rest. He’ll talk to Sanemi first thing in the morning. If Sanemi wanted to run away again, Giyuu would not let it defeat him. There must be a reason Sanemi kissed him. It had to mean something, because Sanemi was not cruel. 

There was that buzzing vibration again. This time, the sensation was targeted near his… butt? Oh! So it was his phone all along. Giyuu hadn’t realized someone was trying to reach him. He flipped his device to look at the front screen, and nearly dropped it.

Sanemi took the kid without a word, bouncing it in his arms on instinct. The child began crying immediately. 

“Thanks.” Muichiro stood up, dusted himself off, and left. 

That brat just pawned another brat off on him! “Can you explain why the f-” Sanemi paused, aware of the audience- “Why the heck your daycare has moved to our office?” 

Gyomei sighed. “I left them for a moment to retrieve some things I left here. Someone must have let them out and they all scrambled to find me.” 

They all managed to navigate the long hallways and stairwells of their school to this very room? Unlikely. Gyomei went on to explain, “I’m gathering the younger children here because it was the closest room I had access to. Kyojuro is looking after the daycare and I have the others looking for stragglers.” 

Sanemi let the crying child out of his arms so they could run to Gyomei. “So we got loose babies running around the school?”

“You’ve put it very bluntly, but yes. I need your help finding and escorting the others back to the daycare.” Gyomei sat two children on each shoulder. “It’s important that we clean up this mess before the teachers grow concerned.” 

“What about the ones here? You plan to just pick ‘em all up at once and carry them over?”

Given Gyomei’s stature, it was a possibility. Yet, he shook his head. “Giyuu is already on his way to help with that.” 

Sanemi pretended the name had no effect on him. “Sure cool, yeah.” 

Shutting the office door so that no other kids could wander off, Sanemi scoured the hallways. He was partly relieved that he wouldn’t have to see Giyuu. It was humiliating enough that Sanemi passed out on the guy, but it was downright unbearable that Giyuu has been paying so much more attention to him. 

The day after he collapsed? Sure, made sense. Lots of people were worried, it was a guilt-inducing day. He didn’t expect Giyuu to be waiting for him at the school gates, fresh red bean buns in hand. Sanemi blushed the entire time as the other asked if he was feeling better. Maybe it was because he actually got a good night’s sleep, but Giyuu looked so clear in the morning light. Not to mention, Shinobu and Genya each mentioned how Giyuu watched over him while unconscious. 

Sanemi was at a true loss of words that morning. Thank you? Sorry? I’m happy that you were there? He couldn’t muster up a single utterance. He settled for shoving bread in his face while Giyuu sat silently beside him.

That should have been the end of it. Instead, Giyuu followed Sanemi everywhere. 

In addition to lingering in Sanemi’s mind, Giyuu made a habit of making certain gestures: Hot tea prepared for him waiting at his usual spot before each council meeting, vitamins tucked into his jacket pocket on his busier days, and though Sanemi couldn’t prove it he was almost certain Giyuu was the reason why Inosuke and Zenitsu were well-behaved during tutoring. 

The most annoying part was, Sanemi barely saw Giyuu these days. His presence was everywhere, yet the actual person wasn’t. Like some benevolent ghost. 

Sanemi tried to deny his feelings. After that didn’t work, he avoided naming it. But the dream he had in the nurse’s office was so vivid, it left him raw and defenseless. Everything that came after only confirmed it. Sanemi might be, completely and irrevocably, just a little bit, totally in love with Giyuu.

The thought was so mortifying and naive that Sanemi wanted to kick his own ass. 

Babies. Sanemi was this close to punching himself. He was supposed to be looking for babies. Locating a bunch of daycare delinquents should be first and foremost on his mind. Not Giyuu, and his quiet kindness. (He remembered Sanemi’s favorite food.)

Maybe there were some kids hiding in the empty classrooms. Rooms like the ones Giyuu and he tutored in. (The press of Giyuu’s finger on his shirt was so gentle.) 

If not there, then perhaps they were outside by the track field? Did Giyuu do any sports? Sanemi never asked. (Maybe not, his hands were too soft for it. They felt so soft, in Sanemi’s dream.)

Crap, this was going nowhere. Focus. There was a rattle, and some noise coming from a supply closet down the hall. Leave it to some four-year-olds to get tangled up in the most inconvenient places. 

Sanemi marched on with conviction towards the closet. He would return everybody back to the daycare and get on with life. No more superfluous thoughts. 

So what, Giyuu hadn’t yet left anything for him, even after Sanemi checked his locker, his bag, and his desk. Giyuu’s face was the last thing Sanemi wanted to see today!

Sanemi opened the closet door and immediately regretted thinking such a thing. 

Obanai and Mitsuri making out in the closet was so much worse.

Many words existed in the dictionary, yet none could capture the disgust of seeing one of Sanemi’s closest friends, scarf and hair disheveled, kiss marks all over his face. Obanai was fast enough to at least cover Mitsuri’s face, but who else could it be? Her hair was pink, for crying out loud! 

“Fucking ew!” 

“Oh grow up, Sanemi. It’s your fault for opening the door.”

“I thought we were supposed to be looking for babies!”

“Babies?” Mitsuri’s muffled voice came from under Obanai’s arm.

“Forget it! Just- I can’t believe- Get a room!”

Obanai’s whole face was red. “You’re the one who came in the fucking room!” 

Soap. Bleach. Fire. Anything to permanently eradicate this from his mind. “I need financial compensation for this. Shit, Obanai. Fuck’s sake. You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Obanai narrowed his eyes, scanning for the perfect pressure point. A serpent waiting for just the right moment to make it hurt the most. Sanemi expected some insult about his face, or hair, or general shitty personality. Instead, “Tell me Shinazugawa, how’s Giyuu?” 

Sanemi slammed the closet door right in his face and stormed off down the hall. 

He swore to never tell Obanai anything about himself ever again. Why’d he have to expose Sanemi in front of Mitsuri as well? There was no way she wasn’t going to grill him about this later. God, it was all snowballing into an ever-growing shitstorm. 

Now Giyuu was coming up the opposite direction, because of course he was.

“Oh Sanemi, I was just looking for-” 

Sanemi took hold of Giyuu’s arm and tugged him along. “Nope. Nothing down there.”

Giyuu stumbled to keep up with Sanemi’s brisk pace. “I swore I heard my name.”

Sanemi would not turn back to look. Not when his face burned a million degrees hot. Not when Giyuu was no doubt making that dazed, wide-eyed expression he always did when caught unaware. No, Sanemi would not look back. “Probably just the wind.” 

-

“So, it appears we were unable to contain the situation before the headmaster found out.” Gyomei sat at the head of the student council table. It was an all-Hashira meeting. Three days have passed since “Babygate,” as it was now known, and the administration had been so quiet Giyuu wondered if it was all a mirage. 

As the newest member, Giyuu sat on the far end of the table. Sanemi sat much further up. He traced his finger along the rim of the teacup Giyuu placed there for him before the meeting. Giyuu hoped it made his day a bit easier. 

Sanemi caught Giyuu’s gaze, holding it for a moment before looking back to Gyomei. 

Progress, at least. After Sanemi fainted, Giyuu tried to alleviate some of the stress in his life to prevent another accident. What Shinobu told him that day concerned Giyuu. He knew from experience how someone who appeared strong could be suffering from undetected maladies. He didn’t want it to go the way it did with Sabito. Giyuu wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

Sanemi’s first day back, Giyuu waited for him. However, Sanemi seemed to be greatly embarrassed about the whole ordeal. It made sense, Sanemi wasn’t one to show weakness. Collapsing like that in front of someone as inconsequential as Giyuu bruised Sanemi’s confidence. It was only logical that Sanemi would avoid eye contact and not want to speak. 

Giyuu should have accepted the circumstances and let Sanemi be but the thought of Sanemi not wanting to be around Giyuu anymore made him feel low. Somberness that resembled a rock slowly sinking underwater. Still, Sanemi could not have been clearer about his discomfort around Giyuu. 

It was Tanjiro who suggested that Giyuu could offer to make amends by doing little things to prevent Sanemi from exhausting himself. 

“If you brighten his day a little every day, Mr. Sanemi is sure to forgive you!” The boy said with a big smile on his face. 

Giyuu really hoped so. 

Around him, the Hashira meeting was reaching a boiling point. Tengen slapped a hand on the table, bracelets crackling as they hit the wood. “Hold on, what do you mean more community service? We serve the community literally all the time.”

“As I explained, the headmaster thinks we all should make an effort-”

“We all?” Obanai interjected. “I recall that you were the only one responsible for the daycare.”

Kyojuro raised his hand. To everyone’s surprise, he did not come to Gyomei’s defense. “I agree. We keep ourselves plenty busy. Collective punishment is going too far.”

“Gyomei, you ought to take responsibility.” Muichiro pointed out. “It was uncharacteristically reckless of you to leave without checking the locks.”

Sanemi cut in. “Kid, you should not be the one lecturing about responsibility when you literally shoved a child at me and left!” 

Muichiro frowned. “I have no skill or interest in babysitting. I’m not even old enough to work an afterschool job.” 

Gyomei raised his hands to steady the room. “Everyone, please. I accept sole responsibility for allowing the children to wander. However, that is not the only reason why we are being reprimanded.” 

“Huh?” Mitsuri squeaked. “What did we do?” 

Gyomei revealed a memo with the headmaster’s signature letterhead on the top, and began to read out the various transgressions. In addition to “Babygate,” Tengen double-parked his sports car near the school five too many times.

“Tch. The girls never give me an accurate time to pick them up.”

Kyojuro accidentally startled off a rare species of bird the nature club was studying. “I did not intend to frighten the birds with my outdoor voice. Apologies!”

Muichiro was marked for sleeping through a fire drill. “I don’t see the issue here. I already knew the procedures, and there was no actual fire.”

Shinobu, for setting fire to one of the school labs. “Ah, I thought I cleaned up all the soot and replaced the burnt equipment, though?”

Iguro and Mitsuri for inappropriate use of a janitorial closet. Mitsuri covered her face with the ends of Obanai’s scarf. 

“Heh, that’s what you get.” Sanemi elbowed Obanai in the side. “Degenerate.”

“Virgin.” Obanai nudged right back.

“-and finally, although this is technically not an official rule violation, the headmaster would like to caution Sanemi and Giyuu against running in the halls while holding hands. It could cause an accident.” Gyomei concluded.

All eyes were on Giyuu and Sanemi. Some sort of explanation was in order, but Giyuu could not provide one. 

One minute he was looking for Sanemi to let him know that all the children were accounted for. Next thing Giyuu knew, Sanemi walked them halfway across the building. Eventually, Sanemi let him go and walked off while grumbling something about beating Obanai into a pulp.  

Giyuu chalked it up as another failed reconciliation attempt. That was fine. Giyuu would keep trying until Sanemi felt comfortable to talk again. 

“We weren’t- I wasn’t!” Sanemi sputtered. The white-haired Hashira looked around for help, landing on Giyuu. “Tell them!”

“He wasn’t holding my hand.” Stifled giggles peppered the room. Giyuu did his best, but his honesty was often ineffective. “It was my wrist. And, I only meant to let him know we finished handling the baby situation.” 

The table broke out into laughter. 

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Tengen wiped a tear from his eye. “What a riot!”

Sanemi continued with incoherent denials, then switched to threats of bodily harm. It took a few more minutes before Gyomei calmed everyone’s nerves, reminding them that punishments had yet to be doled out. 

Giyuu and Sanemi were exempt from the headmaster’s laundry list of tasks. To keep up appearances, or perhaps to spite everyone’s incessant teasing, Sanemi volunteered them both anyway. 

First order of business, reshelving the library. 

The school librarians were happy to sit back and let the student council take over the afternoon’s duties. The library was extensive, wooden bookshelves towering row after row. Giyuu found himself working alone, crouched under the Fiction aisle, alphabetizing by author’s last name. 

He took out a misplaced book to reshelve it and found purple eyes staring back. Shinobu greeted him quietly. “Hello again, Giyuu. Want some help?”

Before he could answer, Shinobu rounded the corner. Her nimble fingers plucked books off the cart one by one, arranging them on the wooden shelves with a gentle slide. “I hear you’ve been leaving little presents for Sanemi.” 

Her phrasing made Giyuu flustered. “They’re not exactly presents. I merely wish to be helpful when I can.”

“Is that so?” Shinobu mused. “Whatever you call them, I think Sanemi is very appreciative.” 

“Appreciation is irrelevant, so long as he does not exhaust himself again.” 

“It isn’t irrelevant. What you’re doing for Sanemi is very kind. It’s not often people look out for him the way he does for others.” Shinobu leaned back against the bookshelf and slid down to Giyuu’s vantage. Her smile was easygoing. “Thank you for being mindful of him.” 

Giyuu took the compliment the way he took medicine. Not at all, unless absolutely necessary. “There is no need to thank me. It appears he does not feel entirely at ease with me.” 

“If I had to guess, I don’t think uneasy is quite how he feels about you.” There was a glint, a sort of unreadable message in how Shinobu tilted her head at him. She changed the subject before he could ask. “Oh, it looks like these editions are outdated! Could you fetch the new ones?” 

New books were shipped to a storage room outside of the main library. It was rather difficult to find, taking several odd turns and a few mistakenly opened doors before Giyuu reached the correct room. The door was ajar when he entered. 

Sanemi perched on a stepstool underneath dim lighting, reaching for a too-high box. Noticing someone came in, he blurted out, “Wait! Don’t let the door-”

Shut, then the sound of a click. Giyuu turned around to give the handle a try, but it was locked. Whoops. 

“Crap.” Sanemi huffed. “We’ll have to wait for someone to let us out.” 

“Sorry.” Giyuu was supposed to be making things easier for Sanemi. Now he’s gone and trapped them inside a closet. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No shit you didn’t mean to.” Sanemi still wouldn’t look at him. Giyuu braced himself for an angry shout, or perhaps the cold shoulder, but the other went right on with his prior task. Whatever the box contained was so heavy, Sanemi could only inch the cardboard towards the edge. 

Nowhere to go. Giyuu sat on a stack of textbooks. “I suppose I’m also sorry that it’s me you’re stuck with.” 

This caught Sanemi’s attention. “What the hell are you on about?”

Giyuu winced at the severity of his tone. “You probably feel weird around me after what happened. I understand why you would be. It’s not like I haven’t been avoidant before. I just hoped…” 

Giyuu debated whether he should keep talking. If Sanemi was already annoyed or embarrassed by him, there was no point in blathering on. Then again, he was reminded of Tanjiro’s encouragement. Keep trying, if only to make his day a little better. 

“I just hoped after everything you might consider being my friend.” 

Sanemi was perplexed. No, the crease of his brow indicated a stronger emotion than that. Indignation? Giyuu hoped it was not that. “Aren’t we already, though?”

This, Giyuu did not anticipate. “Are we?”

“Why else would I spend so much time with you, dickwad? Aren’t all us Hashiras your friends? You talk to us all the time. Did you not consider for even a second that constitutes friendliness?” 

It was evident Giyuu did not. All the chatting and meetings, were those not borne from necessity? He was grateful that his peers included him in conversations, but he figured it was out of politeness that they did so. It was friendly, even. 

Oh, it was friendly. 

Giyuu had friends. 

Aside from Sabito, friendship was a foreign concept to Giyuu. Nothing to compare his experiences to, no way to ascertain what others thought of him. A prank, some wretched part of his mind whispered, this must not be real. 

Sanemi was stern, and hot-tempered, and biting, but he was not cruel. Nor did Giyuu peg him as a liar. Right now, he looked at Giyuu the way one waited for a toaster to pop. The realization sank in fully, and Giyuu’s face caught up to his emotions.

“You really didn’t know? Oh my god, you’re an idiot!” Sanemi’s hand flew to his forehead. Distracted, he failed to notice how far back he was leaning. “I can’t believe I’m in lo-”

“Be careful!” The box Sanemi was trying to reach tipped over. 

The sudden shift in weight caused Sanemi to trip off the stepstool. With no time to think, Giyuu threw himself over Sanemi as books toppled over them. Holding himself over Sanemi, Giyuu allowed the heavy pages to hit his back before they thudded on the floor. 

Damn, his back hurts.

The doorknob turned. 

“Oh my!” Mitsuri hid her mouth behind her hands, but her eyes sparked. “I get it. It’s your guys’ turn in the closet.”

“No, wait-” It was hard to speak after being pelted with a dozen or so books.

“Forget I was even here! Um, have fun!” Mitsuri slammed the door shut. 

Giyuu was not looking forward to explaining himself. 

He shifted his focus back to Sanemi. “Are you alright?” 

Sanemi blinked. Once, then three times.

“Did anything hit you?” Giyuu tried again. The lack of a verbal response worried him. He sat up a little to see if Sanemi had any bruises. 

In the midst of readjusting his position, the hand that Giyuu propped himself up with slipped. What he thought was the ground turned out to be a hardcover book. When that gave way, Giyuu’s whole body tilted forward. 

Sanemi tried to move, but it was too late. 

In the fraction of a second that was the fall, Giyuu’s lips brushed against the corner of Sanemi’s. 

It was like the prick of static electricity. 

Sanemi’s eyes were blown wide, his mouth slightly agape. Giyuu lurched backwards, apologies spilling out. “I’m so sorry. It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to-”

Sanemi yanked Giyuu closer by his shirt, material balled up in a tight fist. 

The impact was forceful, searing. 

It took a beat for Giyuu to realize that they were even kissing. Then, he couldn’t think at all.

Sanemi smelled of flowers. Light and airy, like the first brush of spring. Giyuu could still taste the tea he brewed earlier. Or maybe it was his imagination. He didn’t know. He was drifting. Sanemi clung onto his shirt like a drowning man. 

Giyuu didn’t know what to do. Where was he to put his hands? His body felt out of his own control, the press of Sanemi’s lips having taken over his mind. 

The pressure let up a little. Was Sanemi pulling away? 

Giyuu couldn’t help but let out a confused whine. 

Sanemi pressed their mouths together again, this time cupping Giyuu’s face. Firm, but reverent. Rough palms rested on heated skin, holding. Giyuu reached up, his own fingers traced the curves of Sanemi’s knuckles. 

Too little air, then too much.

“I’m sorry.” Whispered against his lips. Sanemi’s eyes were hidden, voice low as he repeated himself to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Coward! Kneel before me and I shall show you the secrets of this subject.” Inosuke bragged. “For I am the King of Math!” 

King of Delusions was more fitting. Inosuke was another special case, with a bizarre and unintelligible manner of doing math that none of the teachers could decipher. Never showed his work but somehow got the right answers. Half the task was convincing Inosuke to reverse-engineer his madness. 

Zenitsu pulled at his hair. “You’re crazy! You’ve literally lost your mind!”

“Shut up, Zapito! Give me your worksheet!” 

Sanemi massaged his temple. Any other day and he’d be knocking their empty heads together, telling them to zip it and focus. After the week he’s had, though, Sanemi gave up. Mentally faceplanted with a white flag waving in the air. 

He did nothing but stare at the clock. Fifteen more minutes. Fourteen. 

“Please excuse our intrusion!” The classroom door opened to reveal one of his former students, Tanjiro. With him, the one person Sanemi was hoping to avoid today, Giyuu. Because clearly this semester was the result of some terrible mistake he made in a past life, and now Sanemi’s paying for it one ironic encounter at a time. To top off his sundae of suffering, Kamado #2 entered with pink ribbons in her hair and cold fury in her eyes. 

Giyuu cleared his throat. “Excuse our intrusion, Sanemi. It appears the room was mistakenly double booked. I hope you do not mind us sharing.” 

Sanemi didn’t dare look at Giyuu. He couldn’t, not after the Kyojuro Dating Debacle for which he continued to be mercilessly teased about by Obanai. One would think with Mitsuri as his crush the guy would understand he had no legs to stand on. But it wasn’t Obanai who ended up having to awkwardly mediate the so-called “break up” between Giyuu and Kyojuro. 

A meeting so uncomfortable that, were Kyojuro not so good natured about the whole misunderstanding, it would have haunted the rest of Sanemi’s days. To say nothing of the embarrassment Giyuu endured after piecing together the missing context. Naturally, he avoided both Sanemi and Kyojuro for the rest of the week. 

Until now, that is. 

“Sure, whatever,” Sanemi waved them all through. Why not send a tornado after him while they were at it? 

At least the students themselves seemed to get along well. Any discomfort camouflaged between greetings and catch-up conversations amongst the first years. Sanemi nagged at his kids to get back to work, and just like that he could skip the pleasantries. He couldn’t resist a sideways glance to see if Giyuu was looking at him. 

He wasn’t. Why was that so disappointing?

The noise petered out until only the sound of scribbling pencils remained. Hardly relaxing, but Sanemi had fallen asleep in worse places. The allure of slumber tugged at his eyelids. Each blink blurred his vision. Before his head could hit the desk, Tanjiro’s voice. 

Polite and soft-spoken, but he was the only one talking in the room. Of course Sanemi heard. “Mr. Giyuu, I think there's something familiar about this worksheet.” 

Papers rustled. “These are from last week, apologies. Allow me to get the ones for today.” The sound of rummaging through a bag. Giyuu’s distinct huff. 

“Mr. Giyuu?”

“I left them at home.” 

Well, it happens. On a better day, Sanemi might have made some snide remark or scolded his fellow Hashira for being so careless. But it wasn’t like Sanemi hadn’t made similar mistakes before. Hell, once he’d even dropped the wrong sibling off at the wrong school. That day involved a lot of running around and “please don’t tell mom”s. 

Sanemi’s chair scraped against the floor as he scooped up some worksheets, walked across the room, and dumped them in front of Giyuu. Blue eyes met his. 

“Extras. Might not be the same exact unit you’re doin’ but better than nothing.” 

Giyuu gathered the sheets into a neat pile. “But you worked hard on these, surely you have some need-”

Sanemi held up his hand. “I don’t wanna hear it. Just take the damn things. Like I haven’t had to teach these brats before.” 

The last comment earned him a glare from Tanjiro and a hmph from Nezuko. Whatever. Sanemi could live with that, especially now that the small traces of worry left Giyuu’s face. It looked better this way, soft and content.

Slight bewilderment and wonder, as if Sanemi were some great hero. No, he was projecting. But perhaps closer to a hand reaching out when you trip on the sidewalk. A small compliment right when you need to hear it the most. “Thank you.” 

Sanemi would do favors forever if Giyuu kept looking at him like that. 

“Don’t mention it.” Said in a way that sounded literal, rather than for the offhanded “you’re welcome” it intended to be. 

His students chose this time to grow restless again. More specifically, Inosuke was scribbling random numbers on the chalkboard and Zenitsu was halfway out the door. A glower and some vaguely threatening hand gestures were enough to get asses back into seats. Good. Sanemi didn’t know if he had it in him to do anything more. 

It was a total contrast to Giyuu and how he handled the Kamado siblings. They hung onto every word he said, the few that he did. Calm explanations and small encouragements. The siblings worked steadily. When Nezuko began to drift, Giyuu would give her a nudge to get back on track. 

Truly unlike anything he’d ever seen. For Sanemi, everything in life was a whirlwind. Ten things to do at once. Fast-paced living and an ever faster, brasher mouth to keep up with it all. Giyuu was the total opposite. A steady river residing in a rocky, mist-covered forest. Water coursing along inexorably, no matter the time or circumstances. A sight equally invigorating as it was breathtaking. 

All he was doing was teaching math. Sanemi shook himself out of his daydream. The math wasn’t even that difficult! 

“I’m done, Mr. Giyuu!” Tanjiro raised his hand. Spotting the opening, Inosuke and Zenitsu followed suit. 

“So am I!”

“Me too!”

Sanemi snatched their worksheets. “You better not be lying just to get outta here early.” Zenitsu’s entire first page was correct, but the remainder were wrong. Inosuke didn’t do any better. Correct answers were preceded by strange glyphs or intelligible notations. The entire back was also missing, page torn in half. Shredded, or rather- “Did you fucking eat the last few pages?” 

“No!” Inosuke denied it but Sanemi spotted a goddamn Times New Roman twelve-point font number ‘5’ on the corner of his fucking mouth. 

Sanemi let the papers fall as he buried his face in his hands. “Just leave.”

The two whooped and high-fived, scrambling to pack their bags. Across the room, Tanjiro and Nezuko were also given permission to leave. 

“Nezuko, I have something before you go.” Giyuu handed her a paper bag. The top was folded and sealed with an orange cat sticker. So, he put them to use after all. 

Nezuko peeled back the adhesive and fished out her prize; a small baguette. “My favorite!”

“I know it was a big task for you to resume tutoring. You did well.” Giyuu gave her a pat on the head. 

The girl relished in the affection, thanking Giyuu profusely before following her brother out. “I’ll be sure to work extra hard, Mr. Giyuu! You’re a great teacher-” Pink eyes landed on Sanemi- “Unlike some people.” 

Such. A. Little. Shit. 

The door closed, and it was just Sanemi and Giyuu. Giyuu and Sanemi. In the same room. Alone. Together. 

“Sanemi,” Giyuu broke the ice first. “Come here for a moment.” 

“What now?” Sanemi made it sound like such a chore, but his feet carried him over as if under a spell. He tried to appear unbothered, but there was a poke to his upper chest and he immediately looked. 

A little white cat curled into a ball. Upside down, but cute all the same. 

Giyuu revealed the same pack of stickers Sanemi recommended way back when, now with fewer felines. “These have been very helpful. They really like them, Nezuko and Tanjiro.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Sanemi kicked aimlessly at the floor. “Why’d you waste one on me?”

Giyuu spoke as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “You did well today, too.” 

Oh okay. Sanemi wasn’t planning on having a heart attack today but might as well now. Regular people would just say Sanemi’s heart skipped a beat, but this was an irregular situation. The split second of interruption between his cardiovascular system and central nervous system was all it took. 

“Cool,” was all he could manage before his head tilted back and he passed out. 

-

Oh dear. Giyuu’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He wanted to throw up, but that would create an even bigger mess and the last thing the school nurse needed was another patient on her hands. “I can’t believe I killed Sanemi.” 

Giyuu didn’t know what to do after Sanemi collapsed. With one arm supporting Sanemi’s head, Giyuu used his other hand to dial the number of the only Hashira he bothered to save into his contacts. Thank goodness Shinobu was still at school. 

“Relax,” Shinobu was too calm about all this. “He fainted from exhaustion. You didn’t do anything, he’s just sleep deprived.” 

“You say that like this happens a lot.”

Shinobu’s expression softened. “It does.”

The evidence should have been clear to Giyuu. In fairness, Sanemi was good at hiding his fatigue behind snappy remarks and a tight-packed schedule. But Giyuu observed that in the quiet moments, when no one was really paying him any attention, when Sanemi thought he could get away with it, that he would allow his eyes to shut. A respite, no matter how short-lived. 

Giyuu felt bad that things got awkward between them again, but it was in his nature to retreat whenever the embarrassment grew too much. He was ashamed to say he hid from Sanemi, feeling very bad to have dragged the other into his messy not-dating life. Nevertheless, Giyuu could not help but check in on Sanemi during their tutoring session. 

Body tense and a perpetual scowl on his face, Giyuu didn’t know how to make him feel better other than offer a small token of acknowledgement. A token which landed Sanemi in the nurse’s office. 

Shinobu and Giyuu sat on the chairs outside, waiting for the nurse to return.

“I’m glad you were there this time.” Shinobu gave Giyuu’s shoulder a squeeze. “We try to make sure he’s always with someone when he’s at school. Don’t tell him.” 

Hardly reassuring. “How often does he…”

“Not as often as before.” Shinobu shook her head at the memories. “One time he fainted outside. The police were called. It was a whole mess. We all volunteered to fill in Sanemi’s shoes while he was recovering. Take care of his siblings and work. You know how many of us it took?” 

Giyuu couldn’t even imagine. 

“Four.” Shinobu laughed bitterly. “Four of us Hashira to do what Sanemi handles alone. Kyojuro’s never bugged Sanemi for a thing since.”

“What happened after?” 

“He stopped fainting as much.” Shinobu picked at a loose thread in her shirt sleeve. “I doubt it’s because he’s actually resting. I think he weighed the options and decided that another big fall would only cause more problems. So either he’s gotten better at hiding it from us, or he’s worked out some equation to keep him from tipping over the edge.” 

The slam of shoes against the hallway tiles signaled someone running towards them. Giyuu and Shinobu both stood up as Genya skidded to a halt, panting. 

The poor boy was close to tears. “My brother! He’s- Is he-” 

“Resting inside.” Shinobu tried to put on a brave face for Genya, but Giyuu noticed the twitch under her eyelids. She guided the younger Shinazugawa to a chair and made him sit. Genya quickly wiped his face. 

“Can I see him?”

“Not yet. Why don’t you wait out here with Giyuu, hmm?” Shinobu’s voice was kept low, soothing. Like she was talking to a skittish bird. “We can make things easier for your brother, yeah? Did Sanemi have to cook dinner today?” 

Genya nodded. 

“And pick up your little brothers and sisters from school?”

Another nod. “They get out in about thirty minutes.”

Shinobu handed Genya a pack of tissues and patted his head. “We’ll work together, then. I’ll get groceries and meet you back at your house. Giyuu will watch over Sanemi while you pick the others up from school. How does that sound?”

Genya agreed, still looking fragile. Shinobu returned to Giyuu’s side to grab her bag. “The nurse will give you discharge instructions. Let Sanemi know we’ve got it handled, but don’t let him feel guilty about it. Understood?”

Like a general giving her army orders. “Of course.” 

With her gone, Giyuu felt a little out of place sitting across from Genya. Aside from helping him with the scale, the two hadn’t the chance to talk at length about anything. Now was a terrible time to make small talk, but Giyuu felt compelled to say something. What that something would be, Giyuu didn’t know.

Genya started to show the same signs of exhaustion as his brother. Droopy eyes forced wide, a certain stiffness in posture. 

“You should take care of yourself, too. Not just to help Sanemi, but for the sake of all your siblings.” 

Genya stilled at Giyuu’s words. He opened his mouth to argue but decided against it. Instead, “I wish I could help my brother more. So he knows that he can rely on me too.”

  “He’s proud of you.” It was evident, from how Sanemi would speak about Genya, even if coated with insults and dismissiveness. The boy looked shocked. “It’s okay to ask for help from others when you get busy. Do you have any friends at school?”

Genya sputtered out that of course he does. Giyuu was relieved to hear the names of some all-too familiar first year students. Even though Tanjiro and his friends could be handful to deal with, their hearts were always in the right place. They talked a little bit more, swapping stories about school and life until the nurse came outside. 

Sanemi was awake. 

Giyuu stayed outside as Genya went inside. He couldn’t make out what was said. There was some talking, then a few shouts, but the temperature cooled again. Genya came back outside calmer than when he went in.

“He’s going to be alright.” Genya breathed. The boy bent over, holding himself up for a moment while repeating those words to himself. He straightened back up again and gave Giyuu a stern look. “I have to go now or I’ll be late to pick everyone up. Please, watch over my brother and make sure he rests.” 

“I will.” Giyuu promised. “Get home safely, Genya.” 

Genya almost tripped over his own shoes. “Sounds good, bye!” Said much too quickly before speeding off. 

Giyuu didn’t know how much time passed in silence before a distinct grunt was heard from inside the room. It would be fine, the nurse would handle it. A second noise, this time closer to a groan. Giyuu poked his head inside. Where did the nurse go? 

Not wanting to leave Sanemi in discomfort, Giyuu moved the partition to check in on Sanemi. There he lay on the bed, covered up with a thin blanket. Sanemi’s eyes were closed, chest rising and falling with each breath. An arm was carelessly tossed over his face, the other limp outside the blankets. 

A strangled sound left his lips. It bothered Giyuu greatly. He sat down on the stool beside the bed and carefully rearranged the blankets around Sanemi. “Are you sleeping?” 

No response other than a low grunt that also sounded like a snore. Regardless of whether he was lucid or not, Giyuu remained by the bedside. When he used to get sick, his sister would sit by the bed and hold Giyuu’s hand. 

Sanemi’s hands were rough, with minor scarring. Up close, it was evident these scars were also found on his face, lower neck, and probably more elsewhere. Giyuu was antisocial, but he listened. He knew the rumors around school about Sanemi’s home life. Something about a deadbeat father who, thankfully, was no longer in the picture. 

Unknowingly, he gave Sanemi’s hand a squeeze. 

A few strands of white hair clung to Sanemi’s forehead and cheek. Giyuu began to brush them aside. He used to think that sitting still was easy, but for some reason he couldn’t do anything but fiddle and fuss about the other Hashira. 

When he reached over to adjust Sanemi’s pillow, Sanemi’s hand encircled Giyuu’s wrist. Eyes slightly open. “You.”

Giyuu tried to pull his hand back. Sanemi wouldn’t let up. “Sanemi, you’re awake?”

“Leave me alone.” There was no fire to the words. “Fuck off.” 

Giyuu would oblige if he were able. He could have broken out of Sanemi’s grip if he wanted to, but there was a light pulling which made it seem like Sanemi didn’t want him to go. 

“Why can’t you just fuck off?” Sanemi mumbled. The words were barely audible anymore. “Even in my dreams, you keep buggin’ me…” 

If there was a question about whether Sanemi was awake or not, it was resolved when their hands fell back to the bed. It took Giyuu another second to register what happened. 

The nurse came back and informed him that Sanemi’s mother was here to take him home. Giyuu left. He didn’t know if he could control himself if he were to meet the woman who put her son in this position. 

His right hand tingled the entire way home. He went straight to his room, ignoring calls for dinner. The only thing he did that night was text Shinobu to check in on the family. She replied with only a picture.

A steaming pot of soup sat in the middle of a table. All the Shinazugawas were crowded around. Genya was helping spoon portions into smaller bowls. Sitting off to the side, arms crossed and pissed off about not being able to help, was an upright and awakened Sanemi.

Giyuu could breathe normally again. He tucked his phone under his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. He’s okay, Giyuu told himself, you will see him again soon.

Rather than soothe his nerves, the repeated assurances only made Giyuu restless. He thought about Sanemi’s scars, the way he looked that day in the park, how he had held Giyuu’s hand. It was unexpected, perhaps too new to call solid, but there was the horizon of something Giyuu didn’t dare name. 

“Finally, we’re asking the right questions. Although the clarification was kinda unnecessary.” Tengen pointed out. 

“You would be incorrect!” Kyojuro’s head popped up from behind Mitsuri. “I answered October twentieth before Mitsuri clarified. Now my answer is, going out to eat!” 

Tengen scoffed. “That’s such a boring answer! But of course I wouldn’t expect you single people to understand.” 

“Oh? Then enlighten us, Tengen. What is a better date in your mind?” Shinobu asked. 

“Eating out isn’t bad on its own, but the places Kyojuro likes are too simple. You gotta go somewhere fancier. Better yet, have a really nice homemade picnic. The more you do it yourself, the nicer it feels.” Tengen explained as if he was giving sage advice. 

“I see now.” Shinobu leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I guess I’ll have to let Suma know that fried chicken chain you went to last weekend wasn’t up to par.”

“How do you-” Tengen gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

Shinobu raised her eyebrows at him in defiance. 

“What about you, Shinobu?” Mitsuri sat down beside her. “I bet your ideal date would be unconventional, huh?” 

Ignoring Tengen entirely, Shinobu launched into thought. “I haven’t given much thought to dating. I suppose if I really enjoy someone’s company I wouldn’t mind doing a variety of different activities. Though I must admit, the idea of taking someone to a haunted house sounds like a lot of fun.” 

Mitsuri squealed. “That’s so cool! I knew you’d have a good one, Shinobu. Who’s next, who’s next?” 

All eyes were on Giyuu. 

It made him nervous. He ended up blurting out, “I’ve never dated anyone before.”

“Really?” Mitsuri gasped. 

“Eh. I’m not surprised,” Tengen said.

Contrary to his intent, Giyuu’s answer caused everyone to focus on him more. His love life was never something he thought about. He was always busy with school. His off days used to be spent with Sabito. Now, Hashira duties took up most of his time. His lack of real socialization before this year meant that Giyuu was rather inept at any relationship more complex than friendliness. 

“You must at least have some dream? Some fantasy date that you want to go on, even if you never actually went out with anyone?” Mitsuri pressed. 

Giyuu drew a blank. “Anything would be fine in theory.” 

“In theory?” Mitsuri scoffed. “Forget about theory. We’re talking about love. C’mon, Giyuu. There has to be something in your heart you’d really like to do with that special someone!” 

Giyuu thought over all the things he enjoyed doing. “My answer would be the same as Kyojuro, then. It would be nice to eat together somewhere.” 

This answer earned him a rigorous clap on the back from the fiery Hashira. “Good answer! I knew you’d have good sense in you.” 

Satisfied with everyone’s responses, Mitsuri changed the topic. The conversation quickly faded from Giyuu’s mind. A mistake he would come to regret, several days later. 

-

Kyojuro made for good company. Giyuu was skeptical at first, when the other asked to go over the cleanup duty schedule over lunch. Giyuu always took lunch by himself. It was a nice break in the day, a period to recharge. Even though Kyojuro was one of the friendlier Hashira, Giyuu didn’t know if it was worth sacrificing his free time.

However, Kyojuro proved to be an excellent lunch partner. He ate heartily and, like Giyuu, he ate a lot. Nothing went to waste between the two, be it food or words. There was the occasional “Tasty!” or “Delicious!” from the guy, but it was spoken earnestly. Giyuu couldn’t fault him for that. They’d had these lunch meetings a couple times and Giyuu was beginning to look forward to them. 

“Another delicious meal. I’m very satisfied!” Kyojuro beamed. Today, Kyojuro suggested a new noodle shop that opened a few blocks away from the school. The cold soba was cooked perfectly. 

“The meal was indeed, very good.” Giyuu set down his chopsticks and wiped his mouth.

“We must revisit this restaurant again.” Kyojuro hummed in satisfaction. “I also wanted to commend you, Giyuu. I hear you are working diligently and that the other students think well of you. Congratulations!” 

Giyuu stared down at his empty bowl. Kyojuro’s words were not unwelcome, but nor were they reassuring. “I only do what is asked of me.” 

“Which is a lot!” Kyojuro pointed out. “The work of a Hashira is strenuous. Not everyone ends up doing what you do. Have more faith in yourself, Giyuu.”

Kyojuro made it feel like a simple thing. Giyuu supposed that was one of the Hashira’s main talents. For someone like Kyojuro, there was no option but the direct path forward. No looking backwards and no mistakes. It was like an innate fire burned within him which illuminated every step forward on his path. 

Kyojuro gave a reassuring squeeze to Giyuu’s shoulder. “I must now go to soccer practice. Goodbye, Giyuu! See you on Monday for our next date!” 

He waved farewell and took off back in the direction of the school. 

Huh. 

Huh? 

Date? Was this a date? Kyojuro specifically stated that Monday was their ‘next’ date so by inference this meal would constitute their current date. Come to think of it, this was the third consecutive time Giyuu accepted one of Kyojuro’s invitations to dine out. Were all these meals dates? Did Kyojuro think that they were dating? He didn’t want to date Kyojuro! Not that there was anything wrong with him, but Giyuu was not interested in him like that. 

Oh my god.

Was he going to have to break up with him?

-

Unbeknownst to Giyuu, there was a conversation earlier in the week he was not privy to. 

Sanemi was taking one of his usual naps in the student council room. He was chatting with Obanai about some assignment or the other before nodding off. A routine occurrence between the two, and Sanemi appreciated how chill Obanai was about his dozing. Whether minutes or hours passed, he didn’t know. By the time he awoke, Shinobu and Kyojuro were added to the table. 

Shinobu’s hands were folded flat, her head resting on top. She waited like a predator in the tall grass. “Good morning, Shinazugawa. Nice of you to finally join us.” 

Sanemi yawned. “Stuff it, Kocho. What do you want?”

Obanai filled him in. “Shinobu says she has a new revelation she wants to share with us.” Judging by the skepticism in his friend’s voice, Obanai must have also sensed some ulterior intent. 

“Would everyone please relax? I am only following up on something interesting one of our peers said.” Apparently, Mitsuri came in the other day, yammering about ideal dates. A terrible question, considering most of the student council were hopelessly single. Tengen was the statistical outlier that should not count for obvious reasons. No wonder the responses were all duds. Must be why Mitsuri was rather miffed, according to Obanai. 

“I thought it was a nice question to get everyone talking.” Leave it to Kyojuro to find the good in everything. “I particularly liked Giyuu’s answer!” 

“Yeah?” Sanemi didn’t even notice how he perked up a little. 

Shinobu did notice, and cut in accordingly. “I hate to disagree with Kyojuro, but the question lacked substance.” 

“Mitsuri is great at making conversation with everyone. You’re not better than her just because you see everything through a test tube.” Obanai was always the first to Mitsuri’s defense. Sanemi wondered when the poor guy would spare them all the dramatics and ask her out already. 

“My apologies! I didn’t mean it that way. Let’s start over. I want to add a new layer to the notion of ‘dates’ in general.” Of course Shinobu couldn’t let simple questions lie dormant. “I think platonic dates should be encouraged more, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Platonic dates?” Kyojuro frowned. “I’m unfamiliar with the term.”

“I think normal people call it ‘having friends,’ Shinobu,” Obanai snickered. 

Shinobu defended her theory. “Ah but reframing it as a platonic date adds so much more intentionality, don’t you see? Society is so busy and fast-moving. Quality time with friends is taken for granted. Restructuring the whole experience can imbue new meaning to the hangout.” 

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Sanemi cackled. 

Obanai found it equally hilarious. “Is someone paying you to say all this?”

The humor began and ended with the two. Kyojuro, on the other hand, was highly invested. “What an idea! I agree that people should act with more purpose. I haven’t thought about my relationships this way before.”

Shinobu was pleased that at least one person supported her idea. “You see? This is a good way to reflect inward. Kyojuro, I think you would excel at platonic dating!” 

“Indeed! I plan to implement this as soon as possible. Thank you, Shinobu, for your intellect on this matter.” 

“So you’ve rebranded spending time with friends. Big whoop.” Sanemi respected the social sciences as much as the next guy, but this whole platonic dating thing was a stretch. Adding smart words to pre-existing stuff didn’t turn it into new stuff. 

It didn’t stop Shinobu from looking at him like he was dumb. “You don’t have to try it if you don’t like it. Don’t get cranky if you end up eating your words.”

Shinobu always thought she was so much smarter than him. As if Sanemi wasn’t also one of the top ranking students in the entire school! The stunt she pulled with the red bean bun was a one-off. Sanemi wouldn’t fall for it again. “Trust me, I won’t.” 

-

Several days later, Sanemi ate his words. He wasn’t the only one. Obanai also thought the whole platonic dating stuff was garbage, and it was, but that didn’t stop the torture of having to hear Mitsuri gush about how sweet her girl dates with Shinobu were. 

“Shinobu is the absolute cutest!” Mitsuri ran to Obanai, cheering. “She’s so sweet and really puts so much thought into all our dates. I love it, I love it so much!” 

Poor fella. Obanai shot Sanemi a pleading look. Kill me now. Sanemi hadn’t seen him this deflated since the time Mitsuri went out with someone who, in Obanai’s words, “had the intelligence and physique of a decapitated worm.” 

Better him than Sanemi. It was a relief to know that he wasn’t the intended target of Shinobu’s scheming. Perhaps this was the real apology to all that nonsense earlier. 

Sanemi left Obanai and Mitsuri to their antics. It was one of those rare days where Sanemi had no after school obligations. No siblings in need of their big brother. No clubs asking for this and that. Work gave him a day off. Nothing but the promise of a long night’s sleep.

He almost made it to the exit, were it not for Giyuu waiting for him by the door. 

Sanemi tried not to focus on how the setting sun cast a warm glow over Giyuu’s face. How the cozy light softened the blue of his eyes. 

“Sanemi, I hope I’m not troubling you.” Giyuu was worried again. Why did he always come to Sanemi looking so nervous? 

Sanemi wanted to ask him what was on his mind. “Whattdya want?” Close enough.

Giyuu checked over Sanemi’s shoulder, then all around to make sure they were alone. Even then, it wasn’t sufficient. “Can we speak somewhere privately?”

“Uh, sure? The student council office should be-” 

Giyuu shook his head. “No, somewhere more private.” 

More private? A series of locations sped through Sanemi’s mind. None of them lowered his heart rate. “You got somewhere in mind?” 

Giyuu led them away from the school, all the way to some oft-forgotten park. The playground was deserted. Small flowers forced their way out from under the plasticky tiling below the monkey bars and slides. The two sat on a dusty bench, watching the wind push along an empty swing. 

Giyuu took a deep breath. “I have something to ask you. Before I did, it is important to apologize first in case it makes you uncomfortable.” 

Sanemi’s heart stuttered. He wasn’t going to- There was no way. 

“If at any point you do feel uncomfortable, please tell me. You also do not have to provide me with an answer at all if that is what you wish.” Giyuu gathered the courage to look Sanemi in the eyes. “But after thinking for a long time, I decided to ask you before I regret anything.” 

Sanemi thought it may have been from the cold, but no. Giyuu’s face was flushed pink. He was actually shy. The realization caused Sanemi’s face to heat up as well. 

“Sanemi…” Giyuu inched forward. Closer. Ever so closer. Barely an inch yet Sanemi’s heart could give out all the same. “How do you break up with someone?” 

Oh. 

“I really did not want to bother you. You were a last resort-” Oof “-but you came to mind as someone who is used to having others upset with you-” Ouch “-as well as being abrasive-” Ow “-and conflict-prone-” Please make it stop “-so I would very much like your advice on this matter.” 

Stabbing him would have been less painful.

“You want my help.” Sanemi repeated. “Breaking up with your girlfriend.” 

“Boyfriend,” Giyuu corrected, as if that didn’t make it so much worse. “But, yes.” 

Sanemi did not want to process the grief. He couldn’t. Not that, not the rejection, not the utter embarrassment, not how foolish he felt. None of it. Instead, he channelled the bundle of emotions into anger. Typical, familiar anger. “What did the asshole do to you?”  

“No, it’s nothing like that!” Giyuu assured him. “He’s not a bad person. That’s why I’m having so much trouble. You see, I really do not want to hurt his feelings. I’m so inexperienced with this. It’s all so… complicated.” 

Giyuu leaned his head against the bench, heaving yet another sigh. Concern lingered in his eyes as they stared down at the weeds. Shit, this was doing a real number on him. 

Sanemi couldn’t even hide his disappointment. “You really care about him, huh?”

Gyomei chuckled. “It’s quite alright. The children enjoy playing around me and I do not mind.” The gentle giant meant it. 

No one could say Giyuu didn’t at least try. “So, what did you want to see me about?”

“How are you with children?” 

Giyuu had few experiences with young children. He was the youngest in his own family. But from what everyone else said about childrearing, it sounded messy. Spills, tears, spit-up, snot. Giyuu was not a germaphobe or anything, but he did prefer tidiness. Even now, despite stepping carefully and taking up little space on the floor, he felt… sticky. It was not pleasant.

Giyuu settled on saying, “I think they’re fine.” 

“I’m very glad to hear it-” 

A little girl with butterfly clips in her hair toddled over. She gave him a toothy grin before patting Giyuu’s arm. “Plat!”

Gyomei scooped the child up. “Sumi, what did we say about hitting? Apologies, Giyuu. Sumi recently found a unique way to share her favorite juice with others.” 

Looking at his sleeve, Giyuu saw there was a wet, green stain. He sniffed it. Grape juice. He shuddered.

“As I was saying, I knew you would be reliable for the task I had in mind for you.” Gyomei carried himself like a monk. There was a serenity to his mind, but he was also serious. He spoke as if they were in some kind of business meeting and not in a huddle of toddlers. “Some of the other Hashira thought we’d best put you to use as Treasurer.”

Crunching numbers alone sounded perfect, actually. Giyuu seldom had remarkable talents, but he was rather proud of his spreadsheet management skills. 

“But I felt your talent for math would be wasted on such a solitary task.”

Oh, well. There goes that.

“I want your help in the tutoring department,” Gyomei explained. “Several of the others already assist in various subject matters. However, Mitsuri asked to pause her duties in order to prepare for a dance recital and Kyojuro must dedicate more time to manage his various sports. I feel bad letting Sanemi take on all the extra work.”

It should have surprised Giyuu more than it actually did. After learning a bit more about him, though, Sanemi seemed like he would be good at tutoring children, so long as the children were not particularly sensitive. 

Giyuu wanted to make his case for the Treasurer position, but Gyomei looked so expectant. Plus, the lead Hashira was right. It wouldn’t be fair to make Sanemi do all the work. 

“Okay,” Giyuu agreed. “I can start whenever. What do the children need help with? Addition? Shapes?”

Gyomei paused, then laughed. “What? Goodness no. That would be far too simple.”

Pardon Giyuu for not knowing the math proficiency of particular babies.

“You’re teaching trigonometry.” 

-

To the first years. Giyuu lamented Gyomei’s lack of further clarification. He was supposed to teach trigonometry to the first year students. Not a group of toddlers. 

Giyuu had panicked the whole day about how he would explain basic trigonometry principles to grade schoolers (the concept of a triangle was easy enough, but what about angles? Could they even pronounce ‘hypotenuse’?). Gyomei informed Giyuu that his first student would be waiting for him in one of the classrooms later in the day. That wasn’t enough time to draft a lesson plan. What kind of Hashira would he be if he couldn’t help the four-year-olds grasp trigonometric functions? 

The spiralling was for naught. When Giyuu arrived at the tutoring session, the only student there was a peppy, teenage boy with dark red hair. “Hello, Mr. Giyuu! I’m here to learn about trigonometry!” 

Tanjiro, as he introduced himself, was an eager student. Despite being more upbeat than what Giyuu was comfortable with, Tanjiro’s earnestness and hardworking attitude made him easy to like. He learned fast and took to each lesson like a happy duckling to the water. They met every other day, each session having the allotted time of one hour. Lately, Tanjiro’s thoroughness ended most lessons early. 

“Mr. Giyuu! I’m done with my problem sets!” 

Giyuu looked up from his own assignment. He checked the time. “It’s only been twenty-five minutes.” 

Tanjiro presented his work for review. 

Giyuu scanned over the paper. A few minor errors here and there, but overall correct. He marked the paper accordingly. “Good job.” 

“Thank you!” Tanjiro glowed under the praise. “What’s next?”

Next? Giyuu dreaded this part of each session. Tanjiro finished worksheets faster than Giyuu could make them. He hated to send the boy home early. Tanjiro always looked a little bit gloomy, as if he didn’t want to go. 

“Tanjiro, why do you still come for tutoring when you don’t need it?” Giyuu asked. 

“Oh, but I do need the help,” Tanjiro assured him. “I still make silly mistakes on my quizzes and I like to review them with you, Mr. Giyuu. You’re really nice!” 

The compliment caught Giyuu off guard. He’s received praise before. He was not good at accepting it, but he endured the usual ones. He turned in his work on time, was a good student, and did not make trouble. No one’s ever called him nice before. 

“Much nicer than our previous tutor. He yelled at Nezuko so we both stopped coming for a while. But I’m really happy you’re here now!” Tanjiro’s younger sister came up frequently in conversation. She seemed like a polite girl, but as headstrong as her brother. “I’ve been telling her to come back because you’re not mean like Mr. Shinazugawa, but she’s stubborn.” 

Giyuu blinked. “Sanemi?”

“Yes, that’s him.” Tanjiro confirmed. His smile didn’t falter a bit when he said, “I respect him as my senior and as a Hashira, but I hate him.” 

Giyuu didn’t even know Tanjiro was capable of such negativity. He said it so naturally, too. It wasn’t like Giyuu could disagree, he barely knew the guy. The little interaction they had  was tense, to put it lightly. “Please assure Nezuko that I won’t yell at her. She’s welcome to join our sessions, if she wants.” 

“Really? That’s great! Thank you, Mr. Giyuu. I’ll try to convince her to come soon. She’s been wary about staying late after school. Apparently there was some pervert lurking around the girls’ rooms. But since you’re here to look out for us, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about!” 

“Of course.” Giyuu wanted to scream into a hole. “She can come anytime.” 

“You’re the best, Mr. Giyuu!” Tanjiro was too kind. Giyuu wasn’t sure he’d be levying all this praise if Tanjiro knew his math tutor was also the unintentional source of false rumors at school. “Can I ask for one more favor, Mr. Giyuu?” 

Yes. Anything. Sorry for making you worry about a pervert that doesn’t exist. Who is also me, the not-pervert.

“Could you buy stickers for our worksheets? Ms. Shinobu gives them out during group study sessions, but she rarely hosts them. I think Nezuko would really be motivated to learn if she can earn a small reward.” Tanjiro scratched behind his head, sheepish. “Now that I’m saying this all out loud, it sounds kind of embarrassing. Please ignore me if it’s too much trouble.” 

“Not at all,” Giyuu found himself saying. “I will obtain stickers.” 

It was worth it for the success of the students. When Tanjiro leaped up to give Giyuu a hug, it was doubly worth it. The fuzzy feeling stayed with Giyuu as he walked out of school. It wasn’t until he was faced with the cold evening air that he realized. 

Where the hell was he supposed to buy stickers? 

-

Work sucked. Working late at the convenience store because your asshole coworker traded shifts to go do fuckall for the night? Sucked even harder. 

Sanemi slumped against the countertop. Across the street, some advertisement flickered on a broken LED screen. He used to think that slow days were preferable because he could get paid to slack off, but it was the opposite. They were so much worse. Without any customers, there was nothing to distract from how exhausted Sanemi felt. He did all his homework. He did all of Genya’s homework (he was still mad about the bread incident). Sanemi’s bones ached and he wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep for five days straight. 

Being tired sucked too. It meant that Sanemi had less control over where his thoughts wandered. The fear and guilt creeped in. Worries that everyone would wake up one day, finally having enough of his shit, and leave him behind. No, he couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t afford to. He’s harsh because he has people he needs to protect. He faces the world with rough edges because otherwise he’d get trampled under the world’s feet. 

Fuck, it was too hot in here. His uniform was so uncomfortable. Sanemi tugged at his collar, trying to get some air. His mind jumped immediately to last week. The memory that wouldn’t leave his head. Calm blue eyes and the gentle brush of fingers against his collarbone. 

An unwelcome sensation grew in Sanemi’s chest. He coughed to force it away. It didn’t work. “I’m losing my mind here,” he muttered. 

What was so special about Giyuu anyway? He sucked. Were it not for him becoming a Hashira, Sanemi wouldn’t have been made to look foolish in front of the others. Then again, Genya wouldn’t have been able to bake his bread (twice). But it was infuriating how Giyuu handed him that red bean bun without a hint of irony! Didn’t Sanemi end up accepting it, though? He swore he even saw the small upturn of Giyuu’s lip. 

He was happy… because of Sanemi. 

No, enough. There was still an hour left of Sanemi’s shift and he wasn’t going to spend it fawning over the stupid cute grin on Giyuu’s stupid face. 

The shop door opened with a chime of the bell. Finally, a customer. Sanemi rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Welcome.” 

Standing before him was Giyuu’s stupid face. 

Sanemi froze, like he was caught doing something bad. The usual retail worker phrases got lost in his throat. 

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Giyuu said.

“Only part of the week. Sometimes it’s the store two blocks down the road. Coffee shop around the corner during the weekends. You know how it is.” Sanemi shrugged. “I’m sure they’d prefer a friendlier face but I’m the best they could get for minimum wage.”

Giyuu covered his mouth and made a small noise. Did he- did he actually laugh? 

“So you know why I’m here. What about you?” 

Oh, but it didn’t stop at the laugh. To make it worse, Giyuu kept emoting. Nowhere was the typical bored face with a hint of you’re-wasting-my-time arrogance. Giyuu’s hands were shoved in his jacket pockets, eyes flitting around the store. He was looking for something.

“Spit it out, already. I haven’t got all day!” 

This seemed to break Giyuu out of his shell. “I need… stickers.” 

That was unexpected. “Stickers? Like, for what? We got labels, planner decorations, there’s a new collaboration with some anime if that’s your thing-” 

Giyuu shook his head. “Something that says, ‘you’re doing well.’ Or maybe, ‘keep going.’ I’m hoping for it to be encouraging.” 

Well, if that wasn’t sweet enough to make someone hurl. It totally didn’t match Giyuu’s outward persona. Why did he have to be so unexpectedly soft? “What, you got a girlfriend or something?”

Why was that the first question Sanemi asked? Holy shit he didn’t want to know the answer to that. Especially not if the answer was ‘yes!’

“It’s for one of the students I’m tutoring. Or rather, hope to tutor soon.” 

Why didn’t he answer the question!?

“Oh yeah, Gyomei said you would be doing that.” Sanemi forced the conversation to move on. “That’s awfully considerate of you.” 

“She apparently was turned off from attending sessions. I want to help her try again.” Giyuu looked away, saying in a quieter voice. “I think you might know the person. Nezuko Kamado?” 

Ah, shit. Sanemi knew that day would come to bite him in the ass. He always thought he’d just have to fight Tanjiro behind the school dumpster or something. Explaining his actions to Giyuu? So much worse. 

“Tanjiro said you yelled at her.” At least Giyuu was trying not to sound judgmental. “What did you say to her that made her stop attending sessions?”

First of all, it was not entirely Sanemi’s fault. Yes, he was the tutor. Yes, he was older and allegedly more mature. Yes, he was supposed to be helping the students. But what everyone failed to consider was that Nezuko was also at fault! Everyone thinks she’s so innocent. Unfortunately for her, Sanemi built up immunity to little sibling puppy dog eyes and thus knew that Nezuko Kamado, in typical younger sibling fashion, could be such a little shit. 

“I don’t get it. You’re teaching it wrong.”

“Kid, if you just follow the formula you’ll get the answer.”

“All these shapes are hurting my head!” 

“It’s a fucking triangle, just do the math!” 

His misfortune that Tanjiro left to use the bathroom and only returned to hear the last part. It was a one-off failure, honest! Sanemi actually enjoyed working with kids, and considered himself strict but effective. 

However, Sanemi was not about to incriminate himself like that in front of Giyuu. He walked around the counter and headed for the stationary. “There’s some gold stars over here. If that’s too basic there’s smiley faces. Could go abstract and pick like, dinosaurs or something.” 

Giyuu trailed behind him, considering each suggestion. The sheer variety of choices overwhelmed the poor guy. “What would you pick?”

“Me?” Sanemi wasn’t one for stickers. He never needed any extra motivation to study harder. The threat of failing his family was sufficient to keep him hittin’ the books. 

He looked around at what was in stock. Why was this so hard? It’s just some stickers, any of them would do. Sanemi’s gaze landed on a pack of cat stickers. They were drawn in a simple cartoon style with different shapes and colors. There was a black cat with a blank face that reminded Sanemi of Giyuu. He picked it up without realizing. 

“Cats?” Giyuu mistook the action for Sanemi’s recommendation. “They look friendly and encouraging. I will try this.” 

They didn’t talk much more as Sanemi rang the purchase up. Giyuu paid, thanked him, and went on with his night. Sanemi watched as his figure walked along the streetlamps until Giyuu faded into the darkness. 

It wasn’t until Sanemi was closing up for the night that he noticed a piece of paper on the floor. It must have fallen out of Giyuu’s pocket earlier. Sanemi picked it up to find a checklist. Informal, but simple. 

Thank Shinobu for her advice.

Create new math worksheet for Tanjiro.

Help Obanai organize the filing cabinets.

Each task was already crossed off. Leave it to Giyuu to be thorough. It was the last one, however, which gave Sanemi’s heart a strange twist. 

Congratulate Genya on successfully making bread. 

Giyuu wandered into the student council room in hopes of finding Shinobu. The room was empty, save for a young student sitting off to the side. He wore a blank expression, staring out the window. 

When Giyuu entered, the boy turned to look at him. “You’re the new Hashira. From the email, right? I’m Muichiro.” He went back to staring at the clouds.

Tengen’s advice the prior day came to mind. You better be nice to him. 

“It’s good to meet you.” Giyuu came in quietly and took a seat. Not close enough to force conversation, but not too far as to be rude. If Muichiro heard him, there was no indication of it. Better yet, there wasn’t a single bit of pressure to make conversation. It didn’t seem that the boy was shy or anything. His posture didn’t suggest discomfort or reservedness. In fact, Muichiro looked at peace as if he were sitting alone in his room. Not a care in the world. 

Giyuu thought he rather liked Muichiro’s company. 

The tranquility was short-lived. 

Sanemi’s sharp-edged voice cut into the room. “Get up, dickwad. You’re in my seat.” 

Someone out there was hellbent on treating Giyuu’s “what could possibly go wrong” spirals like a wishlist. 

“I didn’t know we had assigned seating.” Giyuu meant it as an honest explanation, but Sanemi took it the wrong way. 

“Don’t get smart with me. You know what I mean.”

Giyuu wasn’t trying to. “I’m not, and I don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

Giyuu struggled to clarify. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

The white-haired Hashira yanked Giyuu up by the collar of his shirt. From up close, Giyuu could see what everyone meant about Sanemi’s default grumpiness. His eyes were big, not by themselves, rather like they were widened by force as if constantly fighting off the urge to close them. There were heavy bags underneath and the left undereye had a barely noticeable but constant twitch. 

Not entirely unusual considering the level of academic rigor the Hashira were expected to perform at, but Giyuu still felt bad. It was a shame, he thought, especially since if he took proper rest Sanemi’s eyes might have even looked rather… pretty. 

Giyuu was suddenly shoved back into the chair. His mind wandered off and he didn’t even notice. It wasn’t the first time he’d ever been threatened physically and most people failed to follow through. Giyuu supposed he got used to ignoring the aggressor until they went away. 

This time, however, Sanemi looked personally offended. His face was red and he kept stammering through different expletives. The hand he gripped Giyuu’s collar with was now grasping at nothing. The movement looked involuntary. 

“You think you’re better than me? Is that what this is? Too good to put up a fight?” 

Giyuu couldn’t do anything except look up at Sanemi from where he was sitting. What could he say that wouldn’t get woefully misinterpreted? “I don’t want to fight you.” 

Ah, definitely the wrong thing to say.

Sanemi’s cheeks puffed up as he shouted. “Who the hell do you think you are?” 

“Sanemi.” Muichiro’s sudden interruption knocked the intensity of the room off kilter. His presence faded into the background so easily, Giyuu forgot that he was there. Muichiro only gave a turn of his head to look at his fellow Hashira. When a bit of sunlight came in through the windows, it gave Muichiro’s eyes the bit of sparkle needed to remind everyone just how young the boy was. He looked innocent and a bit confused. 

“Sanemi,” Muichiro continued, “this is the new Hashira-”

So the kid was listening all along. Wildly misconstrued the intent and tone of the conversation, so perhaps not listening earnestly, but the mistake would even be brushed off as kinda cute. Or it could have, if he didn’t then finish his sentence.

“-Didn’t you read the email?” 

Giyuu stood up, suddenly fearing for Muichiro’s safety. 

There was a flash of an incredulous expression on Sanemi’s face. He turned around, and left the room. Tree leaves rustled in the gentle wind. It was quiet again. Giyuu was about to apologize for creating a disturbance in front of the young boy, but Muichiro’s face had stilled to its prior countenance. What could he be thinking about this time? 

“Oh right, that’s what I forgot.” Muichiro tapped his head like he finally remembered. “I needed Sanemi’s help putting up the new anti-littering notices, but now he’s left again.” 

Muichiro sighed, “I only had one more bulletin left, but I can’t walk all the way over and make it back in time for my next class.” 

It was only right that Giyuu offered to make the trip instead. It was his fault, however inadvertent, that Sanemi left. “I could help, if that’s alright with you.”

“Really? That’d be so great.” Muichiro perked up. He went over to the printer and handed the notices over to Giyuu. “They need to be taped on all sides so it doesn’t fall down.”

Giyuu nodded. “I can do that. Where do these need to go up?”

“The girls’ changing rooms.”

Giyuu Tomioka now had two problems. 

Shinobu was making fun of him. Sanemi knew it. He just didn’t know how. Ever since her little guessing game went awry, she’s been hounding him nonstop. Everywhere he went, her grinning face would appear offering him some apology dessert. 

It was later in the school day which for Sanemi meant that his day had only begun. No shifts at the convenience store for him today, but Genya mentioned needing an extra taste tester for his club. The specifics were lost somewhere between steaming pots and rapid chopping while the two made dinner for the family last night, but Sanemi thinks it has something to do with making bread. 

He’d be at the club room by now if it weren’t for his newfound stalker. 

“Shinazugawa~” He hated the way she stretched out each syllable of his name. Like she was picking a lock. “Please stop being mad at me. It won’t last forever, and you know it.”

Sanemi was mad at her, but now the anger had warped. It was like Shinobu was hunting. This was not the first, nor the last time she started something with him. She never bothered to formally apologize or anything before. No, something deeper was going on. Damn her persistence. 

That stupid Giyuu had something to do with it too. Sanemi could feel it in his bones. The way Giyuu was looking into Sanemi’s eyes that morning… It pricked at Sanemi’s skin to even think about it, the way he felt stretched thin. What was up with his stupid looks anyway? Giyuu didn’t ever seem defensive or slighted. He met Sanemi exactly where he was, one flippant sentence at a time. It was annoying as hell. 

Giyuu wasn’t the issue at hand though. 

“I’m not mad. Leave me alone.” If Sanemi walked any faster, it would constitute a full-on chase. 

Shinobu kept her cool and kept pace. “I know you’re still upset, Sanemi. I just want to say sorry.” 

It was so obvious she had something else in mind and wasn’t sorry in the slightest! “Are you gonna tail me into the bathroom at this rate?” 

Shinobu finally stopped, causing Sanemi to falter a bit. “Sanemi.” Woah, her voice got super serious out of nowhere. “That’s so gross. Don’t be weird.” 

“R-right. Sorry.” Wait, why was he apologizing now? 

In an instant, her cheerful demeanor returned. “Now will you please accept this red bean bun as an apology?” 

Sanemi summoned every ounce of strength he had as an older brother and put on a forced smile. He put a hand on Shinobu’s shoulder. She didn’t brush it off. Good start. He cleared his throat and tried to pretend Shinobu was one of his little siblings. Oh no! They’d cry. I didn’t mean to make a mess. It won’t happen again next time, promise! We’re sorry! 

“Shinobu. I’m not mad at you. You can stop apologizing. I don’t need the food. Genya’s cooking club is about to get out and he always makes me try everything. Now leave me alone to handle my day, okay? Can you do that?” This was the most effort he’s ever put into speaking calmly to one of his peers. She better fucking appreciate it.

“Wow, Sanemi.” Shinobu clapped her hands. “You must really be pissed this time, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll try even harder to make it up to you tomorrow. Please try to get some rest today! I can see your eye bags from down the hall!” 

Red was all Sanemi saw as Shinobu retreated. Her light footsteps pattered away like the flaps of insect wings. Probably for the best. Another word and he’d lose it. 

Just then, his little brother turned the corner holding a big pan with two puffy oven gloves on. When Genya spotted Sanemi, he beamed. Genya ran over, proudly displaying his baking creation. “Brother, you’ll never believe it! Guess what?”

…

Sanemi and Genya faced each other in the hallway. Between them, a fresh loaf of whole wheat faced down on the floor. 

Sanemi added “guessing games” to his mental list of anger triggers. 

“What the fuck-”

“Please don’t cry, I’ll help you make a new one.” 

-

The nature of Giyuu’s predicament was this: He has a duty as a Hashira to complete tasks in the name of the student council. The task at hand, entrusted to him by Muichiro, involved going into the girls’ changing rooms. Giyuu was not a girl. He felt too embarrassed to go into said changing rooms. He was also too embarrassed to ask for help. 

Yesterday he figured he could wait until everyone had gone home for the day. However, a few of the girls sports teams had practice. Giyuu was not on a sports team and couldn’t very well hang around the changing rooms waiting for everyone to leave. So he went home, notice unposted, and waited to try again in the morning. 

It was now the next day, and Giyuu had forgotten that women were also capable of exercise in the mornings. 

Giyuu stood frozen in front of the changing room entrance. As far as he could tell, everyone was in class. He could go in, put up the notice, and get out before anyone spotted him. But what if there were stragglers? What if some girls decided to skip class? Too many unpredictable variables. A single error and he’d end up looking like a total pervert. 

The alternative was no better. It’d be too shameful to admit that he couldn’t even put up a simple notice. It would make Giyuu seem totally incompetent. 

“Dude, why are you hanging around the girls’ changing rooms?” Obanai appeared from behind, narrowing his eyes at Giyuu. His low voice oozed with judgment. “What are you, some kind of pervert?” 

“No. I’m trying to put up a notice, but I’m unsure whether I can go inside.”

“Hoh. That’s the excuse you’re going with? Pathetic.” Obanai didn’t believe him. Giyuu was stunned. “What to do with you, hmm? I could kick your ass here, but that might cause a ruckus and Mitsuri’s classroom is right around the corner. I wouldn’t want to disturb her. Then again, perhaps it should be her or Shinobu who gets to rub your face in the dirt.” 

Giyuu’s head started to hurt. He was shaking it back and forth, trying to draw Obanai’s attention to the notice in his hand. He didn’t expect such cutting words from the scarf-wearing Hashira. 

“No loitering in the halls!” The booming voice startled the two. Kyojuro frowned at Obanai and Giyuu. “Hashira should not abuse their privileges to skip class.” 

Incompetent, pervert, and now delinquent. If Giyuu let this drag on any longer, he’d end up accused of murder. 

Kyojuro towered over the other two with a steadfast gaze. 

Obanai spoke first. “I’m not skipping class, Kyojuro. I’m dealing with this pervert over here.” 

“A pervert!” Kyojuro was the absolute worst person to handle this. Half the school would hear by now. Kyojuro briefly scanned the area. “I do not see any!” 

Obanai rolled his eyes and pointed to Giyuu. “Him, Kyojuro. He was trying to get inside the girls’ changing room.” 

“I am not.” Giyuu directed his comment towards Kyojuro, praying that the man would trust the earnestness in his voice. “I need to put up this anti-littering notice.” 

“I understand!” Kyojuro read the notice and gave it back to Giyuu. “Do not worry, Obanai. Giyuu is not attempting to spy on the girls! Headmaster would never allow such a character to become a Hashira.” This line of logic got Obanai to back down, but he continued to glare at Giyuu. Kyojuro continued, “But we are still not allowed to go inside the girls’ private spaces.” 

“That’s the problem I’m having.” With the misunderstanding out of the way, Giyuu could shift the conversation back on track. “I’m not sure what to do.” 

The three were stumped. Kyojuro suggested asking one of the two Hashira girls to help, but Obanai said they were both in class. There were no other students nearby who could assist. The notice needed to go up as soon as possible and it was not like they could just slide the notice under the door and hope someone would put it up for them. 

At this time, a fourth Hashira happened upon them. “Why are you all standing there like idiots?” 

Sanemi had a hand on his hip and a tired expression. If he managed to get any rest yesterday, he sure didn’t look it. Random books and school supplies stuck out of the bag slung over Sanemi’s shoulder, hastily packed. He must have rushed to get to school. One side of Sanemi’s collar was upturned. Giyuu fought the urge to smooth it out. 

Kyojuro waved him over. “Perhaps your input can help, Sanemi. We three are unable to solve Giyuu’s trouble.”  

Sanemi listened as the entire predicament was explained yet again. After it was done, he motioned for Giyuu to hand over the notice. Once Giyuu did, Sanemi tucked it under his arm and proceeded to flick all three of them on the forehead. Ouch. 

“Ow!” Obanai flinched. “Sanemi, what the hell-”

“Shut up and stop talking. This has been a colossal waste of my time. Are you kidding me? Are you guys dumb? Have you never fucking spoken to a single woman before in your life?” 

Giyuu hadn’t been scolded like this since elementary school. 

Sanemi trudged over to the changing room door and banged on it three times. “Any ladies in there, get dressed or get out! I’m coming in!” True to his word, Sanemi went in. If there were girls changing inside, no fuss was made. A few seconds later, he came out. No paper in hand. “There you fucking go. Problem solved.” 

In the end, in the most roundabout possible way, Sanemi did end up helping Muichiro after all.

With no more reason to mill about, everyone went their separate ways. Giyuu was surprised. He didn’t expect Sanemi Shinazugawa of all people to come to his aid. He found himself trailing after Sanemi. 

“Sanemi, wait a moment.” By some miracle, Sanemi waited. 

He didn’t look happy about it, though. “What now?”

Giyuu spoke honestly. “Thank you for helping me. I’m grateful.” There was no way that could be taken the wrong way, could it? 

Sanemi blinked, then looked away. “Yeah, well. I have sisters. You get used to it.” 

Giyuu also had a sister, but that didn’t make a difference for him. “You really helped me out, so I mean it. Thank you.” 

A hint of red began to show on Sanemi’s neck, which he was soon scratching at. There was that overturned collar again. In his desire for symmetry, Giyuu reached out and smoothed over the fold. Much better. 

Sanemi was taken aback, almost stumbling into the wall. He stammered. “Yeah- well. Don’t act like I did you some kind of favor, okay? Consider it payback. For-for helping my brother out yesterday.” 

Now Giyuu was confused. Didn’t Sanemi just say he had sisters? “Your brother?” 

“Ugh, do I really need to spell it out? Yes, Genya. My brother. He told me you helped him fix his bread or whatever yesterday. So, uh, we’ll call it even.” 

Ah, Genya. Giyuu had been on his way home when he heard a frustrated cry coming from one of the rooms. A younger student, Genya, was struggling to get the proportions right for making bread. Turns out, the kitchen scale was not giving accurate measurements. Giyuu helped recalibrate the machine and left Genya to do his baking. The entire time he thought the boy’s features were familiar. Looking at Sanemi now, it was clear they had similar eyes.

“Oh, so it was your brother.” Giyuu said, “I hope the bread turned out well.”

Sanemi coughed into his fist. “Yep. Perfectly normal, good bread. Crazy how it takes so long to bake, huh? I thought it’d only be like an hour but we- I mean Genya- had to wait ages for it to rise or whatever.” 

Giyuu shared that he was also unfamiliar with the intricacies of baking. The two went back and forth for a bit. Giyuu normally hated small talk, but conversing with Sanemi did not feel like such a chore. He learned that Sanemi had six siblings that he primarily took care of, and that he handled most of the housework and breadwinning alongside Genya. 

“Oh, speaking of bread. Before I forget…” Giyuu paused for a moment and searched around in his bag. He managed to find Shinobu and talk to her about Sanemi. As expected, she was quite friendly and gave good advice. She was even kind enough to let Giyuu know what Sanemi’s favorite dessert was. 

Red bean paste buns, fresh from the bakery. Giyuu held it out to Sanemi. “For you. As an apology.” 

-

ao3 link

Part 1: Guess What, Shinazugawa?

Giyuu wasn’t sure why the headmaster looked so pleased. The man spoke as if everything were perfectly normal. Then again, Giyuu supposed he sat as if everything were normal too. Even in discomfort, Giyuu was never one to fidget. It didn’t stop him from feeling like he was sitting in the wrong chair. That at any moment, the right person would walk in and go “Hey, that’s my seat!” 

“Giyuu?” Headmaster Ubuyashiki looked at him. Calm, expectant. 

Giyuu hated to contradict the headmaster’s judgment, but after weighing it against his own conscience Giyuu ventured, “Are you sure there hasn’t been some sort of miscalculation?”

“You’ve done well on your past exams, Giyuu. Including the highest math grade in your year-” Second highest, Giyuu mentally corrected- “which places you amongst the highest scoring students in the school and thus, earning a place on the student council.” 

Giyuu noticed the change in the headmaster’s wording. Earlier the man had asked him if he’d like to join the student council. Now, it was stated like a fact. Something that couldn’t be argued against, not frivolously at least. Headmaster Ubuyashiki knew this. He knew that Giyuu also knew this. And they both knew that Giyuu hated frivolity. 

Giyuu wondered if the headmaster also knew how much he’d hate the next part. “I’ll have Tengen show you around.” 

-

If Sanemi were optimistic, he’d honestly say that most days were good days. He woke up to a cheerful home, made sure that everyone always had enough food to eat, and headed off to school where he was one of the top students. Naturally, that meant he was part of the prestigious student council where all his peers respected him. 

Unfortunately, Sanemi was not an optimistic person and every day was a pain in the ass. He loved his family to death, but he also loved being able to sleep without someone shouting in his ear that they wanted big brother to make breakfast. School was one thing but it was the extracurriculars that killed him: after school jobs, picking up his younger siblings, supervising Genya’s cooking club, he did it all in stride.

His shoulders always hurt, his eyes always dry, and his nerves shot sky high. That wasn’t even factoring in the student council. Yeah, yeah, he respected everyone there and he figured they all respected him too. Sometimes though, they could be really fucking annoying. 

“Everybody guess what? Guess what? Guess what?” Mitsuri burst into the student council room with her usual excited energy. 

Sanemi didn’t bother to hide his groan. He was sitting with his head to the central table, hoping to get some shut-eye in between classes. Several of his fellow Hashira milled about the room. The sweet smell of Shinobu’s freshly brewed tea being the only thing worth remarking upon. It was a good place to sleep. Fat chance of that now. 

“I would like to guess!” Kyojuro boomed. He hummed, thinking carefully for a moment. “You have an important announcement to make!” 

Several of the other students sighed under their breaths, but Mitsuri was only spurred on further. “Yes! You’re so clever, Kyojuro!”

Sanemi didn’t understand where these people found the energy. 

“I think it was a given that Miss Kanroji had something important to say, or she would not be making us guess.” Obanai snapped. Sanemi suppressed a second groan. It was so obvious the guy hated whenever Mitsuri so much as looked at another dude, let alone compliment them.

“Now, now everyone. Let’s all settle down a bit. It’s clear that there’s something important we should all be privy to.” Shinobu’s gentle-yet-authoritative voice cut through, much to Sanemi’s relief. “Let’s make Shinazugawa guess what it is.” 

He’ll kill them all. He’ll really do it this time. 

-

“This is supposed to be our new Hashira?” Tengen was tall, broad, and wore far too much jewelry that should’ve been allowed at school. He scrutinized Giyuu with a sort of bored curiosity. “How plain.” 

The headmaster sent Giyuu off with his guide, wishing him success in his new role. There wasn’t much choice but to follow Tengen out into the hall. Giyuu didn’t even know what the student council did. From what he did know, it seemed like the Hashira were at school all the time. That didn’t sound like a lot of fun.

“So, you’re one of us now. Congrats, I guess. You can really do whatever you want after I show you to the student council room. Most of us like to hang out there during our free time.” 

“What exactly does the student council do?” 

“We govern the student body. Serve as role models and whatnot.”

What did it even mean to govern and be a role model for the students? Giyuu barely knew any of the other kids at school. It had just been him and Sabito for so long. The thought of socializing with an entire group seemed exhausting. Especially if they were all as animated as Tengen. 

“No need to look so sad. I know you might think it’s impossible to reach my potential. I mean, almost everyone at school looks up to me and I have three girlfriends. But I’m sure you’ll build an army of fangirls soon enough.”

“Oh, that’s not what-”

“I mean, just look at Muichiro. It’s only his first year and he’s got so many admirers already. Hah! Man, that kid is too smart for his own good.” 

Giyuu didn’t know how to make him stop. “I’m not really interested in-” 

“Though I’m not surprised if you’re single. You look exceedingly plain, anyone ever tell you that? Quiet too, though I’m sure some people dig the whole brooding shtick.” 

Giyuu stopped in his tracks. He didn't brood. He was just naturally melancholic. “I’m not supposed to be here. Not really. I got in on a fluke.” 

Tengen raised his brow. “You cheat on a test or somethin’? ‘Cause that’s not an automatic disqualifier, I’m pretty sure Kocho fudges her language exams I just can’t figure out how she does it-” 

Giyuu huffed. If only Sabito were here. If only it was Sabito instead. His best friend for as long as he could remember and, until now, the only person he spoke to at school. Sabito was confident, smart, and got along well with others. Giyuu wouldn’t even be passing math if it wasn’t for their long tutoring sessions. Were it not for Sabito’s sudden health scare, which put him on medical leave for the rest of the school year, the peach-haired boy would have certainly obtained top marks and became a Hashira instead of Giyuu.

Upon explaining all of this to Tengen, the Hashira only blinked at him. 

“So, what? Do you want us to lower your grade? Deduct points for feelings of guilt?” 

Giyuu supposed not. He remembered how cheerful Sabito sounded over the phone in between his coughs when test results were released. Giyuu couldn’t very well ruin that moment for him after-the-fact. “Well, no.” 

“Then can you lighten the fuck up? God, you could at least pretend to be cool enough to join the ranks of us Hashira. People’d kill to be in your position right now.”

Maybe they’d take to it better, Giyuu thought, but he didn’t dare voice any more objections. Tengen, thankfully, stopped making jabs at Giyuu’s existence and began to explain more about what Giyuu was getting himself into.

“There’s eight of us, plus you now, so nine. Gyomei’s the oldest and our President. Highest grades in the whole school, so that’s a given. He also helps with the school’s spiritualism clubs but he’s not around much. Likes to help out at the school daycare.

Then you’ve got me. I’ll spare you my full resume of accomplishments. Just know I’m very smart, very fast, extremely hot, and frankly too important to be showing you around if Headmaster didn’t ask, so be grateful. 

I’m sure you’ve seen Kyojuro around. He’s impossible to miss. Loud, on almost all the sports teams. Hair like he set it on fire. Real flashy guy, really nice too. 

Mitsuri is our first lady. I’m sure she’ll take a liking to you. She’s usually keen on befriending everybody and keeping morale up during exam season. 

The black-haired kid you’ll see trailing behind Mitsuri will be Obanai. He’s either always cold or he must be extremely ugly with that scarf around him all the time. I never bothered to ask why. He has unrealistically high standards for everyone and everything, but other than that he’s chill. 

Shinobu’s the second lady. If she’s not in the council room she’s cooped up in the chemistry labs. I wouldn’t mess with her. 

Muichiro’s our youngest. Some kind of kid genius, but a bit of an airhead. He’s also new so you better be nice to him. 

And last is– oh! We’re here.”

Tengen made an abrupt stop, pointing to a sign above the door which read, “Student Council Room.” A piece of paper was taped underneath the sign. In bright pink font read “Hashira Hangout - Come on in!” with a bunch of hearts doodled around the words. 

Tengen turned around and motioned to the door. “It looks like we’re at the end of our tour. Ah, I’m sure Sanemi’ll introduce himself if you can catch him between his five part time jobs. I’d show you inside, but I promised Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma a quadruple date after school today. You can open a door by yourself, right?”

Though Giyuu looked unfazed by all this new information, inside he was trying to diligently remember every detail. He may not feel deserving, but he'd hate himself even more if he didn't at least try to live up to some of the expectations. It was a lot to take in, and for a moment he found himself questioning whether he did know how to open a door by himself. The momentary panic subsided and Giyuu nodded. 

“Good, good.” Tengen nodded back. Giyuu really didn’t know what to say in return. He supposed a thank you would be appropriate, but before he could find the words, Tengen simply shrugged and left. “Well… bye.” 

It was Giyuu’s time to face the door. He hesitated, unsure of what would greet him behind the wooden frame. From what Tengen described, it sounded like a lot of the Hashira were too busy to be sitting around. Then again, Giyuu could already hear some laughter and talking from behind the door. So there were people in there. Great, more socializing. He’d have to bite the bullet sooner or later. Perhaps it was better to just get the introductions out of the way and, if Giyuu was lucky, he could just avoid coming to the council room and not have to spend any more time with all these new people than necessary. 

A small part of him, faint but fierce, whispered that this could be a new beginning. That maybe someone else could see what Sabito saw in him too. That maybe there were people out there who’d want to be his friend. 

Giyuu took a breath to steady himself, and opened the door.

If he were smarter, Sanemi would have left the student council room ages ago. But because he was running on at most two hours of sleep, he became an idiot and got roped into one of Shinobu’s fucked up experiments. Test subject: Sanemi. Hypothesis: How long a single man can be left in agony over a goddamn guessing game. 

“Nope, we’re not getting free coffee today. Good guess, though!” Mitsuri carried on with her usual cheer. Did she know, Sanemi wondered, that she held his sanity between her pink nails and could send him spiraling any minute now?

There was no holiday coming up. It wasn’t anybody’s birthday. The headmaster is doing perfectly fine. No one got a haircut. Nobody died (yet). What could it be?

Sanemi let out a frustrated groan. “Why the hell am I the only one guessing anyway?” 

“Because!” Kyojuro helpfully chimed in, “Shinobu doesn’t think you can get it in ten tries. And by the looks of it, she is correct! As usual!” 

“Was the last part really fucking necessary?” Sanemi grumbled. 

“Clearly,” Obanai snickered from the corner he’d been lounging in. “Since you haven’t gotten it yet. Hope it was worth betting this week’s cleanup duties on.” 

“Don’t act like the rest of you know what’s going on!” Sanemi snapped. He pointed an accusatory finger at Mitsuri. “It’s a trick question, isn’t it? There is no big announcement.” 

“Nope!” The girl might as well have slapped him. Sanemi thinks it might be preferable at this point. 

Shinobu’s cool voice teased him in a sing-song fashion. “Only three more guesses to go.” 

The lack of sleep and general stress of the semester was really getting to him. How else could Shinobu have baited him so easily into her little game? She always wins! Now there’s a whole week of extra responsibilities on the line and Sanemi cannot for the life of him figure out how to get out of it. He blinked his eyes several times, trying to get himself under control. 

“Sanemi? We don’t have to keep playing if it’s too much. Really!” Mitsuri’s offer came a few guesses too late. It would be way too cringe for him to stop now. It didn’t help that everyone kept looking at him like there was some big thing he was missing. 

Shinobu, nonplussed, said nothing. 

“Would you stop smirking at me!” He slammed his fist on the table. 

Right at that moment, the door opened. Sanemi feared the worst, that it was Headmaster Ubuyashiki coming in during one of his meltdowns again. The last thing he needed was another referral to anger management. Sanemi could manage his emotions, if only everyone would stop pissing him off all the time. 

“Um…” It wasn’t the headmaster. Sanemi stared straight at him, fist-shaped hole in the middle of the table be damned. 

The voice came from a guy who looked to be in Sanemi’s year. Raven black hair tied low. The cardigan he wore had mismatched pockets. Handsewn, from the looks of it. But most striking was the cold blue eyes that met Sanemi’s without any reservation.

It was disarming. Sanemi never felt this caught off guard before. It was a feeling he didn’t care to relish in. Not that he was given much of a chance. The newcomer, evidently spooked by what must have looked like a wild-eyed man about to commit several crimes, slid the door shut again without another word. 

This spurred the council room into action.

“Wait, wait!” Mitsuri yanked the door back open, tugging on the boy’s arm. “Come back inside, I promise we’re nice!” 

Shinobu brushed past Sanemi like he was nothing but one of the bugs she kept in her jars. “You must be Giyuu, right? Or do you prefer Tomioka?” 

“Giyuu is… acceptable.” Soon, the new guy was surrounded. He didn’t seem pleased, but Sanemi didn’t know why the guy was looking at him about it. Sanemi was still confused by how normal everyone was acting. 

“Excellent!” Kyojuro slapped Giyuu on the back. “We’re glad to hear it. We Hashira are all peers, no need for too much formality anyway!” 

Now Sanemi was really pissed off. One moment, he was the laughingstock of all his fellow Hashira. Now this ice-faced pretty boy comes marching in out of nowhere and everyone is cooing over him like a freshly hatched baby bird? What gives? What the hell was going on? 

“He’s the new Hashira, idiot.” Obanai answered. “And you’re talking out loud. You’ll scare the ‘baby bird.’” 

Giyuu looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. 

Sanemi was just about ready to make it happen. “You all know this how, exactly?”

“It was in the memo that went out two days ago from the headmaster. Didn’t you check your email?” Mitsuri asked. 

“Clearly not,” Obanai rolled his eyes. He poked Sanemi’s side. “This is why we check our emails. Eh, Sanemi? Check. Your. Emails.” 

“I’ll yank that scarf tight enough to choke you, Obanai!” Sanemi shot out of his seat but, instead of making good on his threat, he walked right up to this new Giyuu fella. “I am not covering a week’s worth of chores just because you decided to suddenly get smart. You think you’re Hashira material?”

Giyuu didn’t bat an eye. “No, not really. But the headmaster seemed to think so.”

So the new guy’s making fun of him now too, huh? Sanemi was going to punch him, he really was. He’d balled up his fists and everything. And because the universe wasn’t done playing jokes, the school bell chimed. Four in the afternoon already? Shit, he was gonna be late to pick up his siblings. 

“Whatever! Stay out of my way!” With an unceremonious shove, Sanemi knocked past Giyuu and booked it down the hallway. 

-

Giyuu stood in the middle of the council room, staring at a broken table, wondering where it all went so wrong. 

“Oh dear.” The soft-spoken girl, who later introduced herself as Shinobu, remarked. “Shinazugawa really is mad. We’ll have to make it up to him, won’t we Giyuu?” 

ao3 link (also in the fic title): https://archiveofourown.org/works/63833728

Three days. He said it like it was no time at all, but it was long enough to make you begin questioning your sanity. To say you were traumatized all over again by the sudden appearance of Caleb with the Farspace Fleet was an understatement. You pushed the initial concerns aside. He was here, alive. That was all that mattered, or so you thought. 

The routine was too typical. Too easy. You never dared let yourself imagine what it would be like to have him breathing in front of you again. But of all the possibilities you could have conjured, to simply keep carrying on was not one of them. Carrying on was what you did when he left. It wasn’t how he was supposed to come back to you. 

You didn’t even know if he was supposed to come back to you.

He had you down against the couch after three days of unending rain. Your petulant nature once again gets you into hot waters with him. You were pushing the same buttons, but the commands were not the same. His words simmer with a cold flame. 

“No one will ever be able to find you ever again. I’ll protect you forever.”

There it was again. His unending need to shield you from all the world’s harms. It was touching when you were children. Romantic, even. Growing up, you slowly lost the concept of what it felt like to be truly afraid. There were the thunderstorms and the usual mean kids on the block. You were comforted by the notion that Caleb would always be there. That you would never be alone, just like he promised. 

But now your heart thundered in your chest as your eyes stared into his. The purple-grey storm brewing behind his gaze pinned you down like nothing you’ve ever felt before. There was a gnawing sensation that you didn’t want to admit, a fear whose source you dare not name. 

What if I told you I was always like this?

Since he said them moments ago, you’ve been trying to make sense of the words. As much pride as Caleb took in being able to see through you, it came at the expense of you being able to peer right back at him. Those words weren’t total lies, but they weren’t the full picture either. A half-truth. The Caleb you knew could be mischievous and cheeky towards you, sure. But he never did anything as underhanded as keep you locked up for days on end. A half-explanation. Even after so many questions and days to get his side of the story, he was still keeping things from you. A half-Caleb. Something was still wrong. He never used to make you feel so… alone . 

He still had you pinned underneath him. His grip was strong, but you don’t think either of you were putting your full strength into fighting with each other. Even after looking at him so many times, here, alive , you still had to bite back tears each time.

This was the closest you’ve really gotten to seeing him since he’s come back to you. 

He leans into your touch. “I can and I will.” He speaks with such conviction. The tone is familiar even if the empty stare accompanying his words is not.

“But…” The air was so still. You hated it. In fact, you’ve hated every minute of the last three days. It wasn’t just that Caleb was lying to you. It wasn’t that he’d leave you with nothing to do but sit and try not to cry and end up crying whenever he left anyway. It was that you wanted to talk to him again. You wanted the easiness of your Caleb back. The Caleb you whispered secrets to under cover of dark. Not this half-stranger, half… 

Friend? Family? He was always just Caleb. You never had any other word to describe who he was to you. You never needed one. But whatever he was to you, it was not this. Something had to give. You were either going to get half of the past back, or you were going to confront something new. None of which would be accomplished if you kept biting back your words or if he kept avoiding you like this. 

For all of his swift acting and nonchalant attitude, you knew something was off with Caleb no matter how much he denied it. Or maybe he wasn’t “off” at all, and the person you dedicated your entire life to really was a mirage. You were never the quickest to pick up on things. You may not be the smartest. But what you did know was that, even if Caleb was entirely right and he hadn’t changed at all in the months since the explosion, you did. 

Your voice was soft. “But you didn’t protect me, Caleb.” 

You curled your hand that was still pinned down into a fist. Not to resist him, but to let him feel the tension in your muscle. He opened his mouth, ready to shut you down again. You didn’t let him. 

“You didn’t come visit me at the hospital after the fires.” 

You remembered the sterile white walls and the too-thin sheets. 

“You weren’t there when I dug through the ashes, trying to find something, anything left of you and Gran.” 

The suffocating smoke lingered in your lungs, no matter how much the doctors told you that you were clear. 

“You aren’t there when I’m out on missions fighting Wanderers.” 

Work. Heavens, did work bring a whole new layer of pain. It was one thing to be the only survivor. It was another to survive day in and day out as skittish coworkers fumbled through apologies and tip-toed around you like fragile glass. Even if that was exactly what you were. 

“You weren’t there when I couldn’t eat for days because all I wanted was your food. You weren’t there for the nightmares that I still have because every time I close my eyes I just see that day over and over again.” 

You don’t realize how much you’re shaking until Caleb’s grip finally loosens. His facade begins to crumble as you see your own heartbreak reflected back in his eyes. He was lost for a moment. The strength seemed to slip away from him as his hands hovered uneasily. Unsure of whether he ought to let go or hang on. You didn’t give him a chance to decide as you entwined your hand with his. You weren’t going to let him slip away again. You needed him to ground you. 

“You weren’t there when I had to bury the absence of you in an empty grave. So no, Caleb. You didn’t protect me.” 

Surprise flashed across his face for the first time in a long while. A sickly satisfaction took root in your gut. Caleb, who always thought he knew best about everything when it came to you, at last confronted with his own contradictions. The bitter victory went as soon as it came.  

“It was all for your own good.” His justification was so predictable you almost laughed. “It was the only way to make sure you were safe.” 

You shook your head. Caleb may think that he was doing it all to keep you safe. He may even be right that you were safer thinking that he was dead. At the same time, you never felt such raw vulnerability as you did while believing Caleb was gone from this world. Your entire perspective shifted. Who you were as a person changed. It had to. You had your own apartment in Linkon, but it wasn’t home. You had to make peace with the fact that you were the only one who could make a home for yourself. Everyone you held in relation to you was gone. You learned to define yourself apart from those who left you. 

Perhaps the reason why it was so hard to talk to Caleb now was that you were also changed. Caleb’s death rocked your very foundations, and you came out the other side by reconstructing your personhood by yourself, brick by brick. Did he notice it? All the changes you underwent because of him. For the last week or so he’d give you these stares which you found puzzling. It reminded you of whenever he misplaced his phone or forgot his thought mid-sentence. You were right there, so what was he looking for? 

From your closer vantage now, you realized that searching wasn’t the only thing about his eyes. It was almost like pleading, begging even. You may have reunited physically, but you’d hardly found each other again at all. 

“I was the one who learned to bear the thunderstorms at night, alone. I was the one who showed up to family-at-work day events, alone. I was the one who learned to live in a world without you. All alone. So don’t accuse me of trying to go back there.” 

Each word of yours left a cut in him. At last he was open, without retort. He tried to avoid your gaze. Your thumb and index fingers guided him back towards you again. “You left me to grieve you, all alone.” 

He didn’t get to look away. If he wanted you to see him, you needed him to see you as well. An unconscious resistance gripped his body, yet he couldn’t break away. You knew the feeling well. It was exactly the sensation of being in that interrogation chair the first time you came face to face with the Colonel. 

“Don’t leave me again, Caleb.” You don’t notice that you’re crying again until his thumb wipes away your tears. Your voice trembles as you say it again. “Please, don’t leave me.” 

For the first time, he seems to understand what your words meant without misconstruction. He continues to brush your tears aside even as he’s holding back his own. “I’m here. I’m here now.” He said it as if he was also trying to convince himself. 

You let go of him and, for the briefest moment neither of you are touching the other. You wonder what he sees of himself in your eyes. Two mirrors, forever destined to reflect back at each other until you couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended. As you looked and looked and looked, you found what you were searching for. What you found was, frankly, a mess. Then again, so were you. And the discovery sent your heart aflutter as something in this hellscape of a world finally made sense to you again. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him down beside you, throwing yourself into his chest. “You’re here.” A statement so obvious that it makes you laugh. But the laughter quickly devolves back into crying. You cling to him like a lifeline because you really don’t want him to go. Because for the first time since you set eyes on him again did you fully process that Caleb wasn’t just ‘not dead’, no. Regardless of the technicalities between life and death, for all intents and purposes he very much did die. 

Now you could hear his voice. Touch the tears on his cheeks. Hear his heartbeat pounding. “You’re really here.” 

Caleb brushed his hands through your hair. You wondered if it was more of a gesture to calm you, or if it was to soothe himself. “I’ve always held myself back and endured. Day, after day, after day. It was suffocating.” His breath shuddered with each sentence. While you were mourning, Caleb was facing his own struggles. You didn’t know the details. He wouldn’t tell you if you asked. At least not right now. 

He’s in a better place now , is what people would say to you in the early days of dealing with his absence. You wonder if Caleb told himself that about you, wherever he was. That even though you both possessed two different sides to the same tragic story, you both pushed forward in the hopes of reaching some semblance of a happier ending. Perhaps the reason why he put up such an aggressive front whenever you said you didn’t need him was to hide from the fact that he also needed you. 

Caleb curled himself around you, leaning closer to your ear. “All I ever wanted was to come back to you.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t.” He choked on the words like they were poison down his throat. You try to filter his words into something intelligible. I did it to protect you.

“Oh, Caleb-” You hold onto him tighter- “but who was protecting you?” 

He buried his face into your hair and let out a painful sob. His whole body shook as the rain hit the glass windows. His presence screamed, I’m tired . You held a steady hand to his back as his shoulders heaved up and down. His breath came out ragged and uneven. I’m so tired . Just as he did to you many times before, you held him through the panic and shushed away his fears. 

You would protect him, even if you didn’t know what doing so looked like yet. You could have run away, called for help, brought down the entire building if your hatred and anger were genuine. In truth, you were scared for him. You wanted to monitor him. Figure out why there was a sudden darkness emanating from his being when he thought you were turned the other way. If staying away from you was genuine protection, then returning to your arms was no coincidence. Somewhere in his subconscious, he was reaching out to you. 

You were not going to let him go. Not again. 

The two of you lay curled into each other as a single mass. The sensation was oddly familiar. You couldn’t quite place it. A far away, cold place. Someone’s warm hand in yours. A vow to never be apart. A boy whose reassurance put you at ease even if the smile never quite reached his eyes. Was there once a time just like this one when everything lay so far out of control? When there was nothing to do except hold the other as tight as you could, crying and wishing for brighter days ahead. Or simply an end to the darkness. 

A cacophony of tearful whispers and sniffles mixed with the sound of never-ending droplets pitter-pattering around your cellophane birdcage. You thought by now you would have run out of tears for Caleb. Yet it didn’t feel so much like you were crying for him so much as you were crying on his behalf. And he, yours. All the pain and regret built up to be released like a message in a bottle to the sea. The glass object containing all the apologies too late to say, all the memories you didn’t get to make, bundled up and set adrift to whatever mysterious fate the waters held in store for it. Drifting and drifting, casual and random, into the fog of your mind until it was gone entirely. 

All that’s left is you, and Caleb, and the words you get to say to him now. 

“Caleb.” His name is, at last, comfortable in your mouth again. He senses it too, eyes flitting to yours with none of the harshness that you’ve detested growing accustomed to. 

He speaks your name with the same care. As if you were giving it back to each other. 

“If I stay, would you really accept me? As I am now?”

“I already accepted every version of you. The boy from my childhood. My pretend-boyfriend who was off to college. The Farspace Fleet Colonel.” You pressed your forehead against his. “I even accepted you dead. Because you wanted me to, right?” He took a shuddered breath as you brushed stray strands of hair away from his eyes. His hand encircled your wrist again. Absent was the forcefulness from before. His grasp this time was desperate. A silent apology for all the pain he’s caused you. 

You rest your palm atop his hand, an assurance that you weren’t going anywhere. “I never wanted you to be anything other than my Caleb.” 

His eyes widened, gleaming at the sound of the last two words leaving your lips. You honestly surprised yourself with your candor. It couldn’t be helped, really. Not when he was finally his unfiltered self. Take away all the heaviness surrounding the two of you bearing in from the outside world, and you’re left with a Caleb that you only thought you could see in your dreams. Laying by your side, holding your hand, like he only wanted to pull you in closer. 

“I like you like this…” You find yourself inching closer naturally. Were you in a more teasing mood, you might have accused him of using his Evol to draw you in. “I like being with you like this.” 

“Like how?” He asks. You were both too tired for any more games. Chase the other too long, and you’d only end up going in circles. 

You run a finger down his face. How many scars were there that you couldn’t see? “Next to me. Beside me. Not pushing me back, where I can’t see you. Or leaving me behind, where I can’t reach you.” Your finger trails along down his neck, past his shoulders, towards his back. “I like… you.”

You blink. The realization landed like a feather on a still pond, but hit you like a meteor. “I like you.” You say it in a full breath. You say it to see the way Caleb’s eyes swirl with stars. You say it because it’s the thing you’ve been trying to say this whole time. 

 “Just figured that out?” He means to tease, but his voice gives away the vulnerability lurking just behind. The arm around your waist freezes. His weariness leaves him with no defenses. You see in full for the first time how his eyes search yours for something. An answer? Permission? 

You lean in and close the distance. It’s soft at first, the kiss. Hesitant. A ghost of your lips on his. A test of the waters. You lean back for his response, unprepared for the raw emotion you’re met with. 

His hold on you is a plea of the most desperate. Tears prick at his eyeline again. He opens his mouth only to close it again. A million unspoken questions, unsure which is the right to ask. “Please,” is all he can manage. “ Please. ” 

When it’s clear that you are going to kiss him again, his body takes over. He pulls you into him, fervently and entirely. You can’t form proper thoughts, as if his own weaved into your mind with each press of his lips against yours. He moves a bit clumsily, but with the surety of a man too long deprived. Little gasps leave his mouth each time he pulls away. “I can’t believe-”

Caleb kisses you before he can finish his own sentence. Delirious to the point where he didn’t even realize he was speaking aloud.

“You’re so-”

He gets drunk on it. The way you fit so easily with him. The small breaths you take in between his. Your hooded eyes as you meet him halfway each time. 

He calls your name like it’s sacred. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You grab at his shirt in an effort to steady yourself. You continue to kiss as you let yourself be guided underneath him. His hands know exactly where to hold to make you feel at home. You reach up to hold his face again, gently this time cradled between your hands. “You always have me.” 

Caleb keeps pushing down until you’re flush against the couch. He kisses you softer, yet with the same rush as if you were made of sand that could slip through his fingers at any moment. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You’ll repeat it as many times as he needs. “And you?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yours.” 

You put your hands on his broad shoulders before he can kiss you again. The disappointment is immediate, but he waits. He always waits. There’s a softness to his features as he tilts his head a little. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, I just-” It felt silly to admit. “I just like looking at you.” 

The smile he gave you tugged at your heart. You felt tears welling again, this time from relief. If he was able to read you before, you were able to read him right back. With all his defenses lowered, it was like opening the pages of your favorite book. 

I’m here . Your whole being was reaching for him.

I’m yours . Caleb handles you with care. Not because you’re breakable, but because you’re treasured. He brushes aside your hands, guiding them back down to rest on the plush surface of his couch. 

I’ve always been yours. He presses his lips to your forehead first, then your nose. You can’t help a small laugh. His eyes crinkle in response and you know that, this time, he is asking for permission. You grant it. 

Without a word, he carries you up in his arms. Where you find yourself next is the home you had missed. It’s not entirely familiar. It isn’t the summer sun as he walks back with you on the last day of school or the first hug you gave him after he graduated from the DAA. Clumsy limbs and racing hearts. Your small gasps and the reverence with which he calls your name. 

But you know it all the same, the way he makes the entire world fade into the backdrop, taking you someplace outside of time and space. You were two halves of the same whole, split apart. Coming back together.

Between it all there is a gnawing sensation that the peace was fragile. Two split parts were bound to grow, to cover up the scars left behind by their torn half. The pieces would never fit quite right again, not without cutting back into the other. 

His hand grips your waist and you take deep breaths against his neck. 

The questions, the technicalities, they were all for tomorrow.  

For now, you let yourself be content just as you are. You and Caleb. One and two. Caleb and you. Somewhere along the way you stopped having lines of your own and let yourself bleed into him, and he into you. His hot breath fans the side of your face. You make a thousand silent promises to one another, though you both know keeping all of them is impossible. If even a handful survive, you’d take it.

If the sky clears sometime in the night, you don’t notice. 

At dawn on the fourth day, you see him off at the airfield. It’s the same as all the other times you’ve seen him off. Almost. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to him in his Colonel’s uniform. It doesn’t look bad, few things did on Caleb, but it was another reminder that things were different now. 

He was different now. Only time would prove whether that was a good or bad thing. 

“Make sure to look after yourself. Eat three full meals a day and go to bed before dawn. You got that, pipsqueak?” Caleb ruffles your hair.

You swat away his hand in annoyance. “Caleb! As if the Skyhaven winds weren’t already bad enough for my hair.” 

Some things would never change. 

An alarm blares. Several Fleet members rush toward their ships. Caleb shouts something over to his crew, but you don’t hear it. The sun was out in full force after the storm, though the chill of the morning air prevented its full heat from blanketing where you stood. You squinted against the rays, following a particular glint of silver around Caleb’s neck. 

“Well, I guess it’s time to say goodbye.” Caleb takes a step towards you, but stops himself from going any further. There it was. That strange hesitance lingering over him like smoke. 

You used to let him walk away on his own. This time, you cross over to him. “Not a goodbye.” You smooth down his shirt before reaching up to tease out his dog tags. You look up at him, defiant. “See you next time.” 

Whatever he sees in your eyes puts him at ease. A gentle smile graces his features as he echoes your words. You hate the uncertainty in his eyes. You swear to yourself that you’d clear the cloudiness. That shade of violet which is pure, unburdened. You’ll take all that’s grey and wilting about him into yourself if that’s what it took to bring back some of his shine. 

You do what you weren’t brave enough to do before. Looping a finger through his silver chain, you tug him down and press a firm kiss to his lips. It is determinedly quick, but the full effects were felt. Caleb cupped your face and stole a second, then a third. 

The sound of spacecraft engines cuts through the air. He sighs. “You’re not making this any easier.”

“Have I ever?”

“No,” Caleb chuckles. He gives you a look. He could tell, you think, that you too have changed. “You never do.” 

You don’t know if things will ever truly go back to being easy, if they ever were in the first place. Caleb adjusts the cap on his head and gives your hand a final squeeze. A crinkle draws your attention, and you feel old paper against your palm. 

“What’s…” You smooth out the yellowed scrap and scoff once you see the old coupon. You look up to find that his remorse is genuine. You don’t ask what forgiveness he’s asking for. Nothing and everything, is what he’ll say. Instead, you slap the paper back on his chest. “Coupon denied.” 

“Excuse me?” He let out a laugh that he didn’t even expect. “It’s not expired!”

“It’s invalid.” You retort, folding your arms and giving him your sternest glare. “There’s nothing to apply the coupon to.”

“But-”

“Save it.” His hand ghosts over where yours rests, right above his heart. You feel every beat drumming underneath your fingertips. “Save it, and come back to me.” 

A kaleidoscope of emotions flits across his face. He’s holding back the truth. He wants to tell you off. He needs to kiss you again. All these confusing and wonderful things bundle up to make your Caleb. You meant what you told him yesterday. Whether he was finding a way to claw back to who he was, or whether he was entirely changed, you would be there waiting for him. Just as he’s waited for you all those years before.