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Giyu doesn’t exactly know what’s taken over him in the past couple of hours. Something surely has, otherwise he’s certain he would have collapsed by now. There’s the adrenaline rush, sure. The pain and fear of the unknown that keeps his heart beating irregularly in his chest, the sound of which crashes in his ears. Things after this will never be the same.
How can they? When the Master is dead and none of them had had the time to properly grieve?
Turns out that’s only the start of all the bad things that are to come.
When he hears of Shinobu’s death Giyu doesn’t flinch, though he wants too. Wants to break down and sob and wail and curse everything in his life that’s lead to the women’s death. To curl up on the floor and never get up again. To allow his own grief and depression, usually kept barely at bay, to swallow him whole.
But he can’t, continuing to run on steadily with Tanjiro at his heels. The most he can do is suck in a breath, mourn the loss within his heart, and keep on going. He’ll break down about her death later, along with the man he’s grown to see as a father.
They all knew what risks would come of this mission, or at least they thought they had. Giyu had been prepared for anything. But the reality of hearing what was unchangeable fact was different than imagining the possible outcome of a friend’s death.
Still, he pushed forward, if only with the idea that he still had someone he needed to protect running along besides him.
He has failed so many but if this is to be his last mission he promises himself that he isn’t going to let this boy die.
He’s never been too good at keeping promises.
Akaza seems to only have eyes for the young water breather. Giyu doesn’t know what Tanjiro has done to deserve the other’s ire. What went on that mission where Tanjiro had to face this same demon before. He wishes he had Then maybe he would have some semblance of control.
It’s too late now, and he’s not going to stand around and ask questions to find out.
Giyu’s a moment too slow jumping into action, just a second after Tanjiro was already lunging. Giyu pauses, just for a moment, to watch, pride swelling in his chest as the demon’s arm is severed in a single swing from the younger boy.
Even if Tanjiro has grown significantly stronger, this is still an upper rank, and that becomes apparent almost instantly. As the fight drags on and on for what seems like an eternity. Giyu knows when he’s at his limits. Everything within his body is screaming at him in agony for every step he takes. Pushed past the brink of exhaustion he somehow finds himself still standing, taking blow after blow.
If he pauses for even a second then Akaza will take off, going after his true victim here. Giyu cannot call out towards Tanjiro, every ounce of concentration spent on the fight going on in front of him. If he could he would tell the boy to run and leave him. Not that he thinks Tanjiro would listen but at least it would keep Giyu from feeling so guilty.
All Giyu knows, is that for whatever reason, this monster wants his boy- and he’s not going to let that happen while he still has the strength left to stand.
That strength is draining quickly.
Far too quickly.
The seconds feel like they’re bleeding into hours. His mind is too preoccupied making sure that Tanjiro doesn’t get hit. It’s exhausting. Tanjiro’s a good fighter, but every time he’s struck makes Giyu feel sick.
There was already a point in the battle when Guiyu was separated from him. And in that matter of time, the water pillar had come back to see his boy in tatters. Blood gushing and pouring out from gashes, some hidden within the folds of his clothes, others more visible.
It didn’t matter, Giyu could do nothing to help now either way. Not now anyways. He’d get them both to safety and Shinobu could look over their wounds and…
Grief washes over him anew.
Shinobu would never tend to either of them again. Giyu wants to scream, uses his rage instead to put just a little more strength behind his swords’ swings. He swears, however lacking he was in the medical field, he was going to tend to Tanjiro’s wounds and his own, just as soon as they were out of this hell. To take away all the aches and pains and make sure it didn’t happen ever again, that he would never have to see the kid in so much pain and fear ever again.
“I don’t know why you all bother to protect that weakling?” Giyu doesn’t pay much attention to when the demon is talking. He had already tried to ask for his name before this to which Giyu had ignored. There was no point in starting to listen now.
It can’t exactly be helped when Akaza talks as though he knew the pillars…
“Rengoku gave up his life for this brat and the others. And it seems here you are willing too. Foolish weaklings all of you!”
“If you want to kill him you’ll have to get through me.” Giyu says, and it’s the first thing he’s actually spoken to the demon.
“No. I don’t think I will. Not yet at least.” Giyu’s body goes cold at the words. “I think I’ll save you to watch your precious boy die in front of your eyes. See that fighters spirit drain right out of you just like Rengoku’s did. You Hashira are all the same.” There’s a sick smile twisting across Akaza’s face and Giyu doesn’t have the time to block the swift kick to his chest that sends his sword flying and himself sprawled onto the ground.
He's coughing up blood into his hands violently, trying to catch his breath through the scent of iron.
In the time that Akaza has been ranting Tanjiro had been able to sneak up behind the demon.
There’s something disturbing in the lack of emotion that’s held within the boy’s face when Giyu does manage to look up.
The other pillars had taken to calling the Tanjiro the resident ‘sunshine child’ since getting to know him and Giyu, though never using the name himself, has come to agree with it. He’s can’t recall ever seen him not smiling.
He doesn’t know what has happened since the start of this fight. But something has changed in his boy. Something snapped.
It’s not enough, whatever this strength that Tanjiro has found. Gear watches unable to say anything as the boy’s sword meets its mark, gets a clean slice through the demon’s neck. For one breathtaking moment he thinks they’ve won.
It’s that single second of hesitation that makes him lose everything. Because Akaza isn’t dead. And though Giyu cannot possibly fathom how that is possible. It’s clear that whether by some sick joke or pure sheer willpower the monster is not dead. And Giyu is in no position to defend Tanjiro, who now stands in front of him wide open.
There’s the sick sound of bones crunching and the splurt of blood as Akaza attacks. He sees, rather than hears, the blood gurgle out of the boy’s mouth as Akaza hurls his fist into the younger’s chest. He wasn’t there to witness the events of the Mugen train, and yet for a moment Giyu can picture with intense clarity just how Rengoku must have been killed.
Giyu blinks and no longer is the demon standing in front of his fallen friend, but rather in front of his boy, a sneer to his face.
Tanjiro’s still staggering on his feet, swaying dangerously. Giyu can do nothing but watch as the boy’s body gives out from under him, no longer having the strength to keep him upright.
“Tanjiro!” Giyu can hear himself scream, though it sounds as though his voice is coming from under water.
The Hashira can barely move, and still he drags himself slowly forward, broken sword dug into the ground just to keep him upright.
Just one. More. Step.
“Oh look. Your both still alive after all.”
His thoughts race, wondering if Tanjiro’s collapsed body is due to sheer exhaustion, blood loss, or something worse…
He doesn’t let that thought complete itself within his mind. If Tanjiro was dead, then Giyu truly wouldn’t have the strength to keep going.
“How poetic, to spend you last moments together.” And with that, Akaza disappears.
When the dust settles it’s all too quiet. Giyu can hardly breathe past his throbbing wounds.
He pulls Tanjiro towards himself, finding the strength to lift the boy enough so his head is resting on his lap instead of the floor, and uses the tattered edges of his haori to wipe out the blood smearing the boy’s face. It’s the least he can do after Tanjiro saved his life.
There’s blood dripping down the boy’s face and into his eyes, making them hazy and blood shot as they try and peer up at him, but even if there wasn’t Giyu has the strange sense to know that Tanjiro still wouldn’t be looking straight at him.
“Shhh, shhh…” He hushes the younger gently, though the boy has made no sound past a raspy breath, and a single soft whine. “You did good.”
He feels feverish to the touch.
Giyu’s vision swims, filling with tears. “So good…” He wants to praise him more, it’s the least he can do. And yet his strength is failing him quicker than his resolve.
His precious baby being held in his arms. When had he started looking at both Kamado children like his own he doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter.
He’s not going to be able to stay awake for much longer, but somehow, he knows, that if he does… he’ll never see his boy again.
He can almost imagine for a moment that they’re anywhere else than this horrible labyrinth as with shaking hands he combs through Tanjiro’s hair. Giyu can imagine that they rather, are at his masters, or perhaps Urokodaki’s after lunch. Yes, that sounds nice. And perhaps on a full stomach the boy had fallen asleep in a lap and he could watch him dream peacefully for once. Shinobu would be there, and maybe in this perfect world he would have asked her to marry him like he had wanted to many times before.
Giyu hums at the idea, tears running down his face. He’s not delusional, even with the loss of blood. But, perhaps, in some other lifetime, this would be true.
Fuck there’s so much blood. It covers Giyu’s hands, mixes with his own as it seeps and pours out from the gapping wound in Tanjiro’s chest. His arms are heavy, and the boy’s weight is crushing against already burning muscles.
“It hurts…”
“I know.”
Tanjiro sucks in a breath. “Don’t know where… Mui.. an Zen…” He’s trying to list his friends off by name, their family one by one. He stops at Muichiro and Zenitsu, choking on the blood in his mouth. “others… are.”
“They’ll be alright.” Giyu says, though it isn’t a promise this time. Just meaningless words of comfort.
Tanjiro doesn’t say anything in response, breathing falling shallow and dim.
Instead, Giyu listens as the crows begin their calling.
Giyu closes his eyes, pulling Tanjiro closer to him still with what little remains of his strength. It’s harder now, the boy’s body stiff and unmoving, and yet he somehow manages. The pull of sleep is calling to him, the urge to give up and give in crashing over him. Drowning him in sorrow.
Giyu sobs. There is nothing left for him now. Kagaya is dead, his girlfriend is gone, his boy will be soon. And still with all his might to stay awake, he tries to block out the crows and what he knows to be true.
“My baby. My sweet boy. I’m sorry.” Tanjiro can’t hear him though, Giyu can hardly hear himself. Perhaps he hasn’t said anything at all. Nothing meaningful to reach anyone hears. No, the only thing heard is the call of the crows.
“Kamado Tanjiro has fallen in the defeat of upper three.”
It echos around them.
“Kamado Tanjiro and Tomioka Giyu have fallen.”