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Nezuko slept. She wandered through the snow, spindly pines looming before her and obscuring her younger brothers and sister. Nezuko could hear their voices, but never catch a glimpse. The only person she could see was Tanjiro, and he looked at her with such kindness and compassion that she wanted to cry out that he should think about himself every once and a while. But then he turned from her, his understanding expression morphing into unyielding determination as he ran ahead into the forest, out of her sight. She screamed, breath pouring from her mouth until she felt everything inside exploding out of her, radiating force into the cold dark twilight.
"Humans are your family. Demons are your enemy."
Then the laughter and calls of her siblings would come again, until she'd find Tanjiro, and he’d turn away, and then again she'd lose herself.
Over and over, time and again. Sometimes she'd begin at their house—always deserted—and other times she'd be by the well house or in the village. An abandoned shrine that seemed strangely familiar, though Nezuko couldn't place it. Always, the eerie stillness, always alone. She wandered far and wide. Sometimes she heard her mother and father talking in low tones, other times Sachiko and Hana from the farm at the foot of the mountain. But she could never see them, and no matter how she cried out, no one ever heard her pleas.
"Please, could someone find me? Could someone please put the sun back inside?"
She had just lost Tanjiro down a long dark alleyway, dripping with mud black as pitch, when she screamed her heart and mind and soul out once more.
"Nezuko. Can you hear me?" The voice was deeper than her brother, yet different from the one that reminded her to consider all humanity her family.
"Yes, I can hear you! Please help me--please don't let it escape this time!"
And she felt that blessed pressure on her shoulders that she knew had been her salvation on the other side, pressing her down firmly, restraining her so that she could not hurt anyone—could not go against herself.
"Urokodaki!" the deep voice sounded surprised, or perturbed maybe, though it still stayed mostly calm and even. The pressure abated and fearful she reached out, up, hands scrabbling to find whatever had just released her and put it back.
She opened her eyes to wide, deep blue. It was him. She was safe. No one would be hurt now.
—
Giyuu hadn't meant to visit his master during the time when Kamado Tanjiro was to travel to Final Selection. The thought had crossed his mind, yes, that his mentor was likely grieving as he was and strange as Giyuu might find it that the cause of their beloved Sabito's death might comfort the old man, Giyuu could not deny how pleased Urokodaki always was to see him. The former Water Hashira had written to Giyuu regularly to inform him of Tanjiro's progress, and of the strange sleep the demon sister slept. She seemed peaceful most of the time, but troubled occasionally. There was a light question as to whether or not Giyuu would come and see her for himself—Urokodaki would be glad of the opinion of another, and the swordsmith didn't count.
But Giyuu was currently a Hashira, whether he was worthy of that title or not, and so he couldn't expect to have time off from his unceasing duties, even to provide what little comfort he could to his old mentor. Giyuu had been given a command of low- and mid-ranked Slayers and sent to flush out a group of demons that seemed to be warring for territory in the Northwest, causing overt disappearances and great distress amongst the townsfolk. The Corps master had been sent a letter from the governor of the prefecture, which was very serious indeed—the government refused to acknowledge the existence of the Demon Slayer Corps, and so would only write if there was a situation so dire that they could no longer hope to hush it up.
An amount had been pledged for the job, he'd been told, that would keep the lower ranks in rations and spare uniforms for the rest of the year, as well as provide a nice bonus for himself. Giyuu was not very interested in the money. He took it, because it would be foolish not to be able to pay the couple who ran his household, but he was under no illusion that he would survive long enough to enjoy it. Still, if it would keep the Shirumais from being turned out onto the street after his death, he would continue to collect the packets.
So Giyuu had gone North, and thankfully the demons were too involved in their own troubles, or perhaps truly too weak and stupid, to understand that a Hashira was not a typical Demon Slayer, and he was able to play them off of one another so that he could use stealth to pick them off one by one. He hadn't needed the whole troop that he'd been given to command, so when one of their number sheepishly suggested that Tomioka-sama return early and leave them to conduct interviews, assess the wounded civilians, and be sure that there was no further sign of demon activity in the area, he had acquiesced.
And had been traveling right past Mount Sagiri on the day that he knew that Final Selection was set to commence.
So he had made a detour to his master's cabin, greeted the old man, and there had seen Nezuko, fast asleep.
"She has grown," Giyuu commented. She looked more like a young lady and less like a child than she had when Tanjiro had begged him to spare her life. Though it must be said that she also looked smaller than when she had stood as tall as an adult to defend her brother.
"Has she?" Urokodaki's tengu mask moved slightly in response to his furrowed brow. "It's hard for me to tell, seeing her like this day in and day out."
"I believe that she has, yes." Giyuu was having trouble taking his eyes off of her. She wore the muzzle with the bamboo bit that he had carved for her quickly while she lay tied up that frigid day, her brother unconscious beside her. Giyuu had worked quickly, fearing that he’d lose them both to hypothermia. He had cut a red piece from the lining of his haori to thread through the bamboo to tie it on, and it was still there, wrapped firmly around her head, her raven hair falling in waves over it. She looked so familiar and so strange, a figure that had joined others from his past in haunting his dreams these past two years.
His master left the hut to fetch more firewood, and Giyuu could not help but lean forward, his curiosity getting the better of him now that he was unobserved. "Nezuko. Can you hear me?" She whined slightly at first and turned, like anyone would when troubled in their sleep. But then she wriggled, tossing her head.
Reflexively, Giyuu pressed his hands down on the shoulders of the anomalous demon, hopefully not hard enough to hurt, but with enough strength to restrain a supernatural being.
"Master? Come back! Something is happening," Giyuu called, knowing the keen senses of the old man would hear him at that volume.
Nezuko sighed deeply around her muzzle, and he thought she might have settled, so he started to pull away when her hands breached the covers and grabbed onto his wrists, quickly, so fast that indeed he wasn't able to pull them away. Or perhaps he could have but didn't want to hurt her, or didn't believe she would hurt him. Who could say, as instinct was all that had time to choose before Nezuko drew his hands back down to her shoulders, urging him, it seemed, to resume his earlier posture, holding her down. He breathed slowly, willing her to calm.
Her eyes blinked open, and he stared down into the amethyst depths below.