Chapter Text
Dying wasn’t as painful as Giyu initially expected. It was like succumbing to water, submerging into a still lake at night. His only regret might have been Kamado. Giyu had failed, once again, to protect someone. He could only hope that the boy would carry on and do better without him. Failing to open his eyes, he heard the fight rage on; he didn’t know how much time passed. The seconds ticked by, punctuated by the sound of screaming and the clashing of metal against hard skin. The noise of the slayers around him muffled; the kakushi’s soft and sombre tones, a gentle press against his shoulder. Everything blurred in a clouded haze; the scent of burning flesh hit his nose at some point. Perhaps the boy had miraculously defeated Kibutsuji.
It was over for Giyu; he knew that much. At the very least, he could finally be free. The last thing he heard was the slayer's screams and a snarl snubbed short by Giyu’s mind tilting into darkness.
⸻
Giyu woke up. Eyes, working eyes, met with a leafy canopy filtering midday sun through the branches. Frozen, he could only stare at the impossible overhang. Had the Infinity Castle been a dream after all? It felt real, yet so far away.
Sitting up, he winced in pain; perhaps it wasn’t a dream. He rubbed his back, flinching as his fingertips brushed over bruises.
His fingers. Connected to his very much still attached arm. He distinctly remembered the excruciating pain exploding in his shoulder, sure that Kibutsuji sliced off his arm, yet here he was, perfectly fine apart from the minor inconvenience of his back. It seemed the only place he was physically hurt in. He exhaled, staggering to his feet.
Looking around, his gaze flicked sharply in a scanning motion. His surroundings appeared to be some sort of forest clearing; trees lined his vision in a circle around him. He had never seen this place or been to it before. The thought occurred to him to check himself. He seemed pretty normal: dark, long hair drawn back in a loose, low ponytail, half-red-half-patterned haori sitting comfortably on his shoulders, katana resting at his side.
This was all too odd, and he couldn’t understand why he would be brought here if it was the afterlife. It seemed a bit too empty, too peaceful for what he deserved. Was this some sort of purgatory? It seemed far too tame for something like that. Then again, a hell where he was all on his own just as he had been in life seemed to be right.
The most likely answer he could come up with is that this was the result of a Blood Demon Art. But he wasn’t sure if there were any demons left in the Infinity Castle besides Kibutsuji, or what the benefit of sending a glorified corpse away could be.
He had to find out where he was, when it was, and what was going on as soon as possible. He began walking, roaming the forest while eyeing every leaf and bird wearily. This place felt too strange. Like he wasn’t meant to be here.
⸻
Nearing sundown, Giyu approached a village with the vague notion that he could probably talk to someone there and ask about where and when he was. He’d also enjoy somewhere to rest and time to tend to his wounds.
He was beginning to doubt if he was really dead at all.
He continued anyway, striding into the village; relatively quiet and unassuming, with a few inns here and there. He drifted around, observing his surroundings with silent precision. He was considering a fairly nice-looking inn when he suddenly smacked into someone. That in and of itself was weird. Someone being able to sneak up on not only a demon slayer, but a fully trained Hashira? Even if he didn’t deserve his position, it had been a very long time since he was surprised being as on edge as he was. His lips parted to attempt a quick apology so he could move on as fast as possible, tilting his head up—
As he stared up at the person in front of him, every word died in his throat. His mind blanked. Met with all-too familiar flesh-coloured hair, lavender eyes, and a scarred face. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do, his mind wasn’t prepared, he wasn’t ready yet—he had just started thinking that maybe he was still alive and there was still a chance, still hope for Kamado and the demon slayers to defeat Kibutsuji and bring peace. His thoughts slowed to a screeching halt, his body froze, limbs locked in place, bile rising in his throat as he pushed back the urge to vomit.
“Sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention,” the man, who looked exactly like Sabito apologized, and looked Giyu up and down, eyes lingering on Giyu’s haori. Except he couldn’t be Sabito—Sabito was dead, and nothing would change that. Nothing Giyu could do. The man was taller than Giyu, clearly older than Sabito was when he died. A fox mask hung at his side; one Giyu recognised as Sabito’s. The scar was unmistakable. This couldn’t be real—shouldn’t be real—“You’re wearing the uniform. Are you a demon slayer?”
This couldn’t be Sabito. And yet—the resemblance was uncanny. He suddenly became acutely aware that the man was waiting for an answer with growing impatience while Giyu stood there in dumbfounded stupor. Heat crawled its way up the nape of his neck, and all he managed to do was give a stiff nod and straighten his back. He noticed that ‘Sabito’ had a sharper face now; more handsome than cute. The scar cutting a path from below his ear to his mouth remained the same.
“What’s your name?” The blunt question dragged Giyu’s eyes away from his face, and into his eyes. He really didn’t know Giyu.
“Tomioka Giyu,” he muttered after a hesitant silence that stretched a second too long, half breathless, and half still confused as to what was happening. A flash of surprise spread across Sabito’s face, before he gave a nod of acknowledgement.
“Sabito, the Water Hashira. Though, I’m sure you already know that.” Giyu could only hear the first word of his sentence and his own blood rushing through his head. A flood of emotions crashed over Giyu. In the short span of this conversation, his whole world had been turned upside-down and spun around as if trapped in a growing whirlpool. He felt dizzy, every light too bright, every breath, no matter how deep, wasn’t enough, could never be enough. Just like Giyu.
He had to focus.
Offering a meek nod, Giyu swallowed his emotions. He hadn’t seen that face in so long that looking at it tore him apart and sent his heart thumping away like it was trying to kick itself out of his chest. He avoided Sabito’s gaze, shifting wearily.
“Are you here because of that demon as well?” Sabito asked, gazing at Giyu with an amount of mild interest he found starkly uncomfortable. Nobody had looked at him like this in a long time. Always pity, anger, or…whatever expression the Kamado boy had on. Usually hope. He just nodded. Perhaps that was all he could do. Internally, he was reeling; talking to Sabito used to be so easy, the only person it had been easy to talk to since Tsutako died, yet now…he was afraid. Of what exactly, he couldn’t pinpoint. He exhaled, feeling the emotions pour out of him like water out of a basin.
It was just talking. He could do this.
“My crow…” he started, and felt like he was burning alive as Sabito made complete uninterrupted eye contact, “ah…it’s old, and it isn’t with me right now. Do you,” he took a breath, Calm down, “mind giving me the details again?”
“Sure, but you should probably pay a little more attention in the future, hm?” Sabito frowned, not even waiting for a response before continuing. “It’s only really dangerous because of its venom. It starts circulating shortly after injected and is quite potent, so stay out of the way if you can. It doesn’t seem to have a particular sort of person it goes after, just anyone slow enough, really. So, I hope you’re a good actor…you better not be actually slow on your feet.”
Giyu shook his head. “No need to worry, I’ll be fine…thank you for the explanation.”
Nodding, Sabito glanced over at the inn Giyu had been eyeing before he got distracted. “I will deal with it tonight after nightfall, whether you join me or not.” Turning on his heel, Sabito walked away, leaving Giyu still dazed, still processing everything.