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In the beginning, there is darkness. He’s swaying between void and existence, covered in something still, lukewarm, and undisturbed. Like water … somehow, it's always water. Then, a small thing moves past him, fluttering swift and light, and leaves him. The scent reminds him of someone—of a field of blossoming purple: lilac, lavender, and wisteria. His heart aches. His heart longs. Misses. He floats towards it, the flurry of delicate lovely wings, pretty and insect-like. He follows it, follows through the darkness, towards the light at the end of the shaft, and he races and runs and sprints, just to get it back. Just to get her back.
Giyuu gasps.
Antiseptic air rushes into his lungs like an ocean current.
Where is he? Where is everyone? What happens?
Pictures flash before him in a tsunami. Of the upper rank demons. Akaza. Then, Muzan. Tanjirou, as the demon who overcame the sun. He remembers his friends, his fellow pillars. Some have fallen within the debris of the Infinity Castle. The lower-ranked demon slayers had been cut into shreds. The stench of blood. The taste of sweat. And tears. And wisteria.
His chest tightens.
Wisteria.
Toxic. Poison.
There was once an expert in medicine and venom. Someone precious who used herself as bait, quietly dying by herself, so small yet so strong. So alone. Did she feel lonely? Did she have any regrets? Was she in tears or in anger?
Giyuu gasps. He can't breathe. He can't breathe at all!
“Tomioka-san, you need to control your breathing.”
That voice. That voice.
Is he hallucinating? He's close to death. Is he dead? Is he still on the battlefield? He must wake up. Wake up! Be awake! Wake up, Giyuu!
“Tomioka-san?” Like a fish out of water, he chokes. “Tomioka-san! Breathe!”
His neck breaks to the right, onto the side where he can’t feel his arm. Two things ground him from panicking further into oblivion. One, the fact that he has lost his arm, meaning that the war is over and done, they have triumphed, and this is not, in fact, a hallucination. Two, Kocho Shinobu, as thin and brittle, damaged and blue as he is, sleeps on the bed beside him, a big blanket covering half of her petite form.
“It’s like you have forgotten you’re a pillar.” She smiles, somehow. Although, it’s strange and sarcastic. “Come on. Breathe with me. Slowly. Inhale … exhale … inhale … and count to three. Inhale … exhale again. That’s it. You’re doing great.”
“You’re alive.” His voice sounds crackly and parched, but she’s here. She’s here. “Oh, God, Kocho-san, you’re alive.”
“Unfortunately.” She moves her shoulder in a small shrug. “And you’re also alive.”
“I thought you were—the kasugai crows, they said you were—”
“The perks of having a great tsuguko.” She takes a deep breath and ponders. “Kanao saved me.”
“God, Kocho-san—”
The revelation hit him like a waterfall. It runs gently before coming down hard. At last, Giyuu lets his guard down. He cries, weeps; a sense of relief washes over him. It's been needed. A catharsis. He breaks down with relief at first, his body shivering and trembling, washing away all the exhaustion, stress, and sorrow for everything that had been sacrificed and endured. She is alive! He is alive! They are alive!
Shinobu observes him silently, taking in so evenly that Giyuu wonders how long she has been conscious to achieve such calm. What has she been thinking? What has she been feeling? Did she cry as he did? Alone in this room, with Giyuu unaware of what was going on in the world?
It takes him a few minutes to regain control of himself—sobs change into mild hiccups, which turn into steady breaths. Finally, he peers at her again, and she stares back at him and then at the ceiling. She sighed, "There you go. I never expected to see the pillar of water wailing like a baby."
“Is it not allowed?” Giyuu rubs on the corner of his eye.
“It’s allowed. I’m just envious.”
“Have you not—”
“I haven’t.” Shinobu hissed sharply. “I want to. I’m scared and I’m sad and I’m angry and I’m relieved and I want to cry like you did, but I can’t, Tomioka-san. I don’t know why, but I can’t.”
For a moment, there is only silence and tension in the wind. Giyuu looks at her through the dimness of their surroundings, looking for ways to figure her out, despite the truth that they are both worn out and prone to vulnerability. He wants to dissect her, understand her, find out what's hurting her, what's driving her to be so angry, what's keeping her from letting go.
It strikes him that they haven't really talked much outside of their duties. Even when they were summoned to the Ubuyashiki mansion, they always prioritized the welfare of those around them over trivial matters. Yes, Giyuu is aware of some of her story—of Kanae and Kanao, as well as her wrath and vendetta against Douma—but he had no idea how deep her hatred was; how lethal it was to rot and corrode her like acid on her sword's blade.
“Kocho-san.” Giyuu calls, gently, carefully, like taming a wild, angry tarantula hawk. “To put this simply, I’ve never really suspected I’d be out alive from the war, so let’s try something silly.”
Shinobu blinks when she turns her head. “What?”
“Let’s try being honest with each other.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
Shinobu laughs sardonically and dryly. There is a lull followed by a fit of rage. "If I'm being honest with you …." she mutters. "Would it change anything? Will it give me my sister back? Half of my lungs?"
"No."
It comes out flat, like the truth itself. Shinobu cracks up again. Maybe she thought Giyuu was going to lie? No, even now, when he has fortified himself to be more open, he won't lie. Especially not to those who matter.
Acceptance.
All he wants her to give is acceptance through honesty.
"But it will make you feel better."
"How?" Shinobu is nearly screaming now. Giyuu has truly disturbed the mantis. Her fury comes across raw and beautiful. "How will being honest with someone who thinks he's better than everyone make me feel better?"
"Because you will put your rage at me." Giyuu answers again, simply. Shinobu's neck snaps back to him at the speed of light, jarred and bewildered. "Then, you’d feel like you had emptied the gun's barrel. It will pierce right through you, but it will make you feel better, I promise."
“That sounds stupid. Besides, it’s not like you ever held a gun.”
“Genya showed me once.”
One, two, three. Giyuu counts Shinobu's blinks. He notices it meticulously, even from where he is lying, the way her purple eyes flicker around with the fire, studying him in turn. He wonders if she's weighing his truth, if she's going to give in, or if she's plotting the most vicious curse she may use on him, prompting her to fall backwards, farther away from him.
Nonetheless, he is now waist deep in the pond. It's best to swim regardless.
“I’ll go first. My honesty is that I didn't believe I deserved to be a pillar."
A pinch between her brows. “What do you mean?”
"Exactly as is," Giyuu responds. "I didn't pass the final selection. I was saved. Sabito, the boy who saved me, was more courageous and honorable than I. I felt like stealing his spot. He is certainly more deserving of the title. That's why I said ... I wasn't like you. Each of you has your own unique strength, worthy of your positions. I'm not. I didn't believe so."
"Wait, what—so, it wasn't because you thought you were better than us?"
"I feared I wasn't even worthy to stand with you in the first place."
Another snap to her neck. Shinobu grunts as if this is a more delusional idea than destroying all demons once and for all. "Tomioka-san, you're the most ridiculous man I've ever met."
Giyuu smiles. "Your turn,” he says gently. “Come on, Kocho-san. You’ve got nothing to lose anymore. What’s a little honesty between us?”
“This is dumb.” She grumps. She pauses. Giyuu waits. And when finally she opens her mouth, Giyuu releases the breath he unknowingly holds. “I … don’t feel the sense of satisfaction. Yes, I have avenged my sister, but she’s still gone. I’m still mad. I still want to punch something. I … I don’t know if I'm ever going to get over this rage.
“And I …” She hesitates. "I have absolutely no idea what to do next. I thought I'd die fighting demons … I had no plans on how to live my life after that.”
Ironically, Giyuu understands.
Life catches every one of them off guard, heedless of what they have done to deserve it. Each time they struggle to get up, it feels like they're being beaten down again and again. It's as if their entire purpose in life is to fight demons. There were events before their tragic fate, but there would be no aftermath. As a result, it is easier to toss lives aside in the name of saving others than it is to cultivate them, not knowing what they will become once their use has been spent.
"It's not my place to tell you what you should be doing with your life, but, honestly, I do wish you a life of peace and quiet. You deserve that." Giyuu hums. Shinobu's gaze lingers, then goes back to staring at the ceiling, and he adds, "I had a dream … when I was unconscious. Something foggy, yet … it made me think of you. You’re amazing, Kocho-san. I felt hopeless when I thought you were gone. I thought I'd lost a really good friend.”
There is something that slithers like a braid of centipedes when Giyuu proceeds, “Can I ask you something?”
“Well …” Shinobu sniffles. “Aren’t we in a competition of honesty?”
"It's not a competition," he says, but continues regardless. "Was this the reason you used yourself as bait?"
Giyuu notices the way Shinobu bites her whitish lip. She hesitates again and looks at him, but the way she finally softens, the way she finally gives in, the way his words finally erode her walls with gentle ripples—all of it is painted clearly on her face. Ultimately, a tear falls silently down her cheek, and she responds, "Well. That's the only way I could think of to defeat Douma." She gulps firmly as if drinking a lump that refuses to go past her throat. "I'm sorry. To you and the rest for not telling. I'm sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye."
Giyuu looks directly at Shinobu. And every single time she blinks, he is reminded of how thankful he is that she is still alive, as well as how empty the world would be without her. Perhaps it's greed, but he wishes to dive deeper into those plum eyes.
"I was puzzled as to why you didn't tell me. I feel betrayed knowing you didn't trust me enough to share your burden and keep it quiet—"
"We weren't that close, Tomioka-san."
"—I know, but I wanted to. I wanted to be closer to you, Kocho-san. Well … want."
Her small mouth gasps an unbidden air, too baffled by his words to respond. He doesn't specifically say in which way he wants to go closer—he doesn't need to; doesn't even know which direction. That is fine. That's okay. They're alive. They're free. There's more to discover now.
"Nevertheless, you're here," Giyuu confesses with gratitude. "So, that's great. You are forgiven.”
And at that point, those violet eyes glisten with renewed chance, like a pair of shiny beetles. They soak in the sun as it rises from the east, marking the start of a new day, a new life, or the first act of self-forgiveness. Their wounds are still too raw and severe for a complete heal, but they've finally been exposed to one another so that they can care for each other. Slowly.
In a few minutes, the kakushi will come to check on them, providing them with drinks, breakfast, and medications. Giyuu feels warmth settling into his chest as he watches Shinobu's tears drop one by one next to him.
It's both an assurance and a promise. But regardless, Giyuu states, "Listen. I will send high quality tsukudani to the Butterfly Estate. Tanjirou said it was your favorite. How does once a week sound?"
“That’s too often. How will you find the supply?"
"Once every two weeks, then?"
This time, Shinobu nods, wiping her eyes. Giyuu studies her features and uncovers something that seems too delicate to be an act. "I'll allow it," she answers softly.
"There we go, then. Ways to live our lives after this. I’ll deliver you tsukudani and you’ll wait for it once every two weeks." Giyuu wants to stretch out and touch the curve that pulls at the corner of Shinobu's innocent and somewhat hopeful half-smile. "We have made a start."
"Haven't we?"
"Yes. I'll send you some letters, too. You won't feel lonely."
"Can you write with your left hand, though?"
Giyuu gives an honest chuckle. Open and relieved. "I'll learn it for you."