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Chapter Text

It was quite late when Mitsuri-san's training had finished. His muscles felt like mush, not exactly sore, just heavy and generally too tired.

Tanjiro had seen the Pillar of Love in action in the blacksmith village and had fought alongside her, so he was already familiar with her fighting style. However, the flexibility training was harder than it looked.

It was only the third day, and she had left them all exhausted. After taking a bath, most of them were having dinner in the dining room of Mitsuri's house. The atmosphere was filled with friendly conversation and a sweet smell of honey and gardenias. Tanjiro liked it because it matched Mitsuri-san's personality so well.

The food came and went, as did the hunters; some barely managed to eat anything and then retired to their bedrooms to rest. The pillar was sitting next to him once again, her cheeks flushed as she chewed on yakisoba and drank green tea. It was the fifth dish to be served, and Tanjiro could see two more portions being brought in the background.

Soon a figure approached their table, shuffling his feet and looking like he was dying. His skin was pale, with dark circles under his eyes and messy blond hair. Zenitsu slumped his shoulders forward and almost collapsed into the chair when he sat down in the seat across from Tanjiro. The training had hit him pretty hard compared to Tanjiro.

He let out a long, pathetic groan, almost like a whimper, and his head fell onto the table, shaking everything closest to them. Mitsuri-san just laughed and encouraged him with a sweet voice, but it was only when a kakushi placed a plate of yakisoba in front of Zenitsu that he seemed to cheer up a little. It smelled delicious.

Tanjiro had finished eating a short while ago, but he decided to wait for both the Pillar and his friend to finish. Besides, he enjoyed being with them and talking. He was listening to Mitsuri-san talk excitedly about honey sweets when the cawing of a crow was suddenly heard.

The three at the table turned towards the window in front of them and there was Kanzaburo, Giyu's crow. He was carrying a small scroll rolled up in one of his feet, and he was clicking his beak and moving his head to get their attention. After a second, he fluttered a little and landed on the table, right in front of him.

A smile immediately spread across his lips, and Tanjiro could feel his heart suddenly leap with joy. It was a letter for him.

"Another letter from Giyu-san!" he exclaimed in an excited voice. He was overjoyed.

His hands reached for one of Kanzaburo's feet. They untied the red string holding the paper and took it carefully. After giving him a gentle pat on the head and thanking him, the crow let out one last caw before flying away the way it had come.

He opened the letter embarrassingly quickly and his eyes scanned the words, his heart pumping in his chest and his stomach tingling.

Tanjiro was unaware of the stares of the other two people around him.

Mitsuri's knowing eyes only watched him tenderly, as it was too obvious, while Zenitsu's were almost bored and annoyed.

Perhaps it was exhaustion that made him dare to speak, to reveal those thoughts that had been bothering him for some time regarding his friend and the Water Pillar.

Whatever it was, he was tired of him not admitting it.

“Nee, Tanjiro,” Zenitsu called out to him after swallowing a mouthful of yakisoba.

Tanjiro didn't look up from the paper. He had that silly smile on his face and a blush that gave him away without shame. Zenitsu only received a small ‘Hm?’ in response from him, but he didn't really have his attention.

"When are you going to admit... that you're in love with the Water Pillar?"

The silence that followed at the table was thick. Crushing. It was only broken by the way Mitsuri began to cough and choke in surprise on one of the sakura mochi she had been chewing.

The commotion of the other people around them could still be heard, but for that moment, it felt as if everything had disappeared and only they remained.

Tanjiro froze.

In any other situation, he would have helped.

He would have immediately turned to assist Mitsuri. He would have handed her a glass of water. He would have patted her on the back a few times to help her cough.

But in this situation, Tanjiro did nothing. He couldn't. He just stood there, petrified.

His heart dropped to the floor and any sound was dulled by a sudden ringing in his ears. As if his brain had short-circuited and he was having a hard time processing, rationalizing what he just heard.

In love...in love with Giyu-san?

And the question sounds so unreal because, it's not something Tanjiro would have even imagined.

No one ever says something like that out loud.

Because they're both men...and there are things with more weight at the moment than that. There's too much at stake, and something like love in their context is... not important.

Tanjiro has dropped the letter at some point, but he doesn't notice it either. He turns, or thinks he is, because his neck moves before his eyes do and, there's Zenitsu. He's looking at him with an almost bored air. As if he doesn't notice that his words completely shook his friend's core.

But in his eyes there is a glint. A small spark of knowing something that even Tanjiro himself doesn't know. He realizes that his mouth has gone dry and he doesn't know how to answer, or what to do, even.

“... Huh?” is the only thing that comes out of his throat, as a tight, embarrassed sound.

“When are you going to admit that you're in love with the Water Pillar?” Zenitsu repeats, in that same tired tone of voice. He even has the nerve to take another mouthful of noodles into his mouth. As if it's the most normal thing in the whole fucking world.

“No—” Tanjiro starts, but has to clear his throat, regaining his voice. “I don't know what you're talking about, Zenitsu, I don't—”

“Oh, Tanjiro please, it's obvious!” Zenitsu interrupts him rolling his eyes, setting the chopsticks down on the table with force “You should listen to yourself when you talk about him and how practically your eyes glow with hearts!”

He points to his own yellow eyes, as if emphasizing what he is saying, leaving Tanjiro even more frozen.

No, he...

That's not ...

That is... yes, Tanjiro owes him his life and Giyu has saved him more times than he can count on his hands. He has sacrificed himself for him and his sister. His life depends on Nezuko's return to being a human as much as his own.

He is someone so strong and kind. With a scent that calms him just by taking in an instant's glimpse of it. A confidence that makes Tanjiro keep his feet on the ground and want to keep moving forward.

Someone who, despite having lost so much, is still here. Even though he tells everyone he doesn't deserve to be here, his actions prove otherwise.

Someone with such a gentle and beautiful eyes that make him shudder every time they land on Tanjiro and a touch so soft that-.

Oh.

Oh, no.

No, no no no nononono—

I don't—

I—!

“I don't like him like that!” For an instant, Tanjiro feels his stomach sink. His heartbeat spirals up until it rumbles inside his ears and his mouth feels dry again.

“Keep saying that to yourself!” Zenitsu retorts sarcastically, scowling at him.

“You're wrong!”

“Don't deny it!”

Beside them, Mitsuri had managed to calm her cough and spit out the piece of mochi that choked her for a second. She took a couple of deep breaths of air and brought the tea to her lips. She drank it all in one sip and almost smashed the cup on the table when she puts it down, harder than she would have liked.

The sharp thud of it is what breaks up the other two's fight and shushes them. Both Zenitsu and Tanjiro turn to find that Mitsuri-san has begun to laugh. A sweet sound, bubbling laughter rising into the air.

There is no malice in it, no ill-intentioned mockery, rather relief and surprise that leaves both boys shocked.

“I thought I was the only one who had noticed!” Mitsuri-san then exclaims, her voice infectious with her sudden good mood. "Oh, Tanjiro—"

Suddenly, she turns completely in his direction. The Pillar of Love's hands catch Tanjiro's; she squeezes them tenderly and lifts them until they are held in the space between them. She has a pearly smile on her lips, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with a new glow. A different one than they usually have.

And then, in a slow, serene voice, as if hailing an ancient poem, she says:

"Love is a secret that eyes cannot hide. Especially yours."

Tanjiro feels his shoulders twitch again, the air getting stuck in his chest. His lips tighten and his brow furrows a little more.

Stinging tears well up in his eyes and for some strange and stupid reason, he feels more exposed than before. His cheeks flush uncontrollably and embarrassment threatens to consume him completely.

Is it really...is it really that obvious?

Mitsuri is softened by the sight of him. A giant wave of pure empathy washes over her and she gently strokes the back of both of Tanjiro's hands in circles with her thumbs. A small gesture of support, like a mother comforting her child after a fall that hurt him.

“You love in such a beautiful way, Tanjiro.” she says carefully and with tact as she watches thick tears begin to slide down Tanjiro's flushed cheeks. His hands tremble between hers. “Don't hold back, don't close yourself off from loving Giyu-san if that's what you really feel.”

Tanjiro puffs out his chest again, but it's hard for him. He wants to speak, to deny it, to say something, but he can't. Any excuse has died in his throat. His lips are not responding and seem to have only sealed against each other, a product of the shocking realization of what that means.

He knows it's true.

That little seed has sprouted inside of him. It has taken root and the sprouts have grown until they are about to bloom.

He can no longer deny it. He can no longer hide from his own feelings. From how much he loves Giyu Tomioka.

And at that very moment his mind is filled with nothing but Giyu: his smile; the gentleness of his voice and gaze when talking to him alone; the softness of his touch when he strokes his reddish hair; his calm way of being and how he let himself lose to please Tanjiro and be part of the training; his strength and solid way of fighting; his perseverance even though life has been so unfair; his concern and his attempts to be more sociable with others.

Simply Giyu.

It has been there from the beginning. Feelings that grew, developed with care, and as he got to know him better, it was only a matter of time before they turned into love.

Because you only love what you know. And Tanjiro feels he knows Giyu in a way that no one else does.

The good and the bad. And he loves him in spite of it.

He fucking loves him so much.

And he's so terrified of the size of that love.

“But—” Tanjiro has to catch his breath, try to contain all the chaotic surge of emotions sweeping inside him like a torrent, and even then, his voice comes out as a tight whisper. Trembling. “It scares me...”

Mitsuri-san gives Tanjiro's hands another squeeze. Her smile doesn't falter at any point.

"Love is scary, yes. It's intimidating and complicated many times, but it's always worth it." Mitsuri declares, with an assurance that leaves him quiet.

Then she brings one of her hands up to Tanjiro's face; to his cheek. She caresses it gently, wipes away the traces of tears that sparkle on his skin and that small gesture makes his chest feel lighter.

“Never be ashamed to love someone, Tanjiro.”

Zenitsu has been watching them, just listening to Mitsuri's soft voice and her words so full of assurance and love, stemming perhaps from experience and the mere fact that she is the Pillar of Love.

Something inside him stirs as well for, although he does not want to admit it out loud, what she is saying also drills into his consciousness.

In his own heart that has begun to beat without permission for the self-centered former Pillar of Sound. Zenitsu just purses his lips, suddenly losing his appetite.

"Love. Never stop loving, in that beautiful way you do." Mitsuri finally says and almost automatically Tanjiro's body leans forward, burying himself in an embrace with the Pillar, who gladly returns it delightedly.

Loving Giyu...

Yes. Tanjiro loves Giyu.

It doesn't feel so bad to do so now.

.

.

.

.

Then....

Why...

…did it hurt so much to love Giyu Tomioka in this other life?

Something echoes.

It is everywhere around him. A continuous, repetitive tempo.

It is new. Tanjiro has never heard anything like it, and it seems to be accompanied by someone's soft touch on his cheek. Faint taps. Like a fingertip pressing against his skin. It's gentle, as if drawing his attention and trying not to hurt him in the process.

The touch is cold; whoever it is could have been holding snow or ice before getting close to his face. Tanjiro opens his eyes, confused as to why someone would wake him up like that.

It is dark and for a moment Tanjiro thinks it must still be night. There is a small layer of what appears to be dew on his skin, hair and all over that strangely hard surface he has been lying on. There is a musty smell that makes his nose twitch, and his eyes take another heartbeat to get used to the strange gloom that surrounds him.

The lethargy lingers for a second longer, weighing on his eyelids and muscles, when he finally realizes that he is not in his room, not even in his house. All around him is rock, moss and the natural moisture condensed in this enclosed space.

There is another tap on his cheek and Tanjiro realizes that it wasn't someone calling him a moment ago, it was just water that has been falling all this time from somewhere on the ceiling of the cave and making that strange echo.

Tanjiro groans low as he moves and rests his weight on one of his hands as he finally stands up and sits down. His gaze falls to his lap and he immediately notices that this is not his body.

“I'm Giyu again!” the words escape, that voice too, without meaning to.

His hands run over the wet clothes on his torso with a combination of excitement and fear, then up his neck and finally reach his face, touching it as if he wants to convince himself that it really is him.

It feels strange to be in Giyu's body again, especially after having gotten his memories back. To have gotten back that life in which he knew him in the past. It is overwhelming, warm and painful at the same time, to be surrounded by the smell of the person he loves.

This throat, his blood, his flesh, his skin. Giyu— it's Giyu and he's right here.

Tanjiro purses his lips, a bitter taste settling on the roof of his mouth. There is an uncomfortable clench in his heart that threatens to rise up to his throat and choke him to the brink of tears, but he takes a deep, deep breath, swallowing all those emotions and that love that weighs him down.

He doesn't want to cry anymore, he's done it enough and that won't change the fact that Giyu doesn't remember him and that he didn't keep his promise because of his own fault.

He looks around with some restlessness and soon realizes that, in front of him, there is a small altar. One of stone and old wood, covered with moss and dust, which is revealed before him, completely gray, the only color that stands out, is the worn red of the rope that wraps the neck of a white porcelain bottle on one of its sides.

Looking closer, Tanjiro notices that there is another one at the foot of the altar, this one is open compared to the first one and the red rope that also wrapped it rests forgotten on the stone floor very close to him. He recognizes it as the Kuchikamisake offerings he had put together with his sister some time ago, although he does not remember leaving them at the relic.

Either way, Tanjiro feels the odd urge to reseal the bottle and leave it as it is supposed to be. It's a fleeting need to fix it, as if it's somehow wrong to leave it that way. He does it without much thought, his hand closes around the porcelain, caps it and carefully wraps the red string around the neck again.

His fingers move the string with familiar memory and when he finishes he places it back on the moss mark on the rock where, he assumes, it was before being taken.

Tanjiro stands up, not quite sure what to do now and turns once more. He takes a step, but stumbles over a backpack that surely belongs to Giyu. He grumbles quietly to himself and takes it rather reluctantly before starting to walk to the exit of the cave.

He climbs the narrow stone stairs cautiously, with that railing that doesn't seem firm separating him from a small drop into a pool of water that glistens from the little light filtering down from above. The silence is profound, making even a small drop falling from the ceiling echo loudly off the stone walls.

The late afternoon sun hits his face and Tanjiro has to squint his eyelids and frown at the abrupt change in atmosphere. His eyes burn and water for a heartbeat until it becomes bearable. When he fully exits the cave, the air and smell of petricor floods him and that somewhat obvious suspicion he had is confirmed.

He is in the body of the god.

That huge crater that opens up for several meters in all directions. A plain painted by green grass and a decent sized pond, chaotic and messy, covered by a thin layer of mist that barely touches the surface of the water. Tanjiro turns and finds the huge tree standing with its roots curled around the large slab of rock that forms the cave.

He looks at it with that same sense of wariness, which he now understands where it comes from. His brow furrows again with discomfort, that by this point he doesn't bother to hide and, almost as if he were talking to the god head-on, he asks aloud:

“What was Giyu doing here?”.

The leaves of the tree sway in the wind, wanting to give him an answer that never comes. Tanjiro releases the air and even without really understanding what is happening, he starts walking again. Giyu's clothes rustle with his every movement, his jacket is heavy on his shoulders and his hiking boots sink into the wet grass and mud. Giyu's backpack bounces a little with each movement.

The smell of wet soil is thick, it seems to have been raining for a long time before he woke up, but when Tanjiro looks up, the sky is perfectly clear; there are only thin rows of clouds, parting like white cotton in the wind, bright and golden.

He keeps moving, almost mechanically, until he reaches the edge of the plain and where the small wall of earth and rock that forms the crater rim begins. For some strange reason, his mind is blank, his memories, which until now had not left him alone, are unusually vague and he does not know if that is a good thing or not.

Tanjiro starts climbing, and as he does so, he tries to remember what he was doing before switching bodies with Giyu. He... had collapsed after remembering his previous life... he had talked to grandpa, then his sister and then....

Then his fingers touch the rim. His body emerges from the crater and the evening light begins to cover him completely.

«He remembers the music of the festival. That light green summer kimono full of chequered black patterns. His own dejected face reflected in a mirror. His disheveled hair falling down his face.

Right. Yesterday was the autumn festival. Zenitsu and Inosuke asked him to go along with Nezuko, and he wore those traditional clothes at his sister's request. It was the day when the comet was supposed to be brightest, so they went to see it. Yes, that was it. It all seems so distant somehow, but it was definitely yesterday.

His attitude had surprised his friends. His silence had unsettled them and Tanjiro felt a little pity at that moment. He recalled, somewhat impatiently, how all the way Zenitsu and Nezuko were whispering behind his back, thinking that they were discreet enough or that the distance he himself had put protected them, but of course it didn't. »

Do you think it's because of someone who broke his heart?

Yes, Zenitsu.

It was because of someone who broke his heart. Someone he loves with all his existence but doesn't remember anything of what they once were in the past.

But how could they even begin to understand? How to understand what Giyu is to Tanjiro and how much it destroys him to not be able to look him in the eye and tell him how much he loves him?

They can't. No one can.

Only Tanjiro. Only Giyu and Tanjiro.

His feet sink into the earth with effort as he finally reaches the top of the slope. He catches his breath, the wind hitting his face is cold and the sun on the horizon still shines insistently even though it is slowly hiding.

«Tanjiro remembers when they were climbing up the narrow road. When they had reached the top and he turned toward the meadow at the sight of it: a huge comet in the night sky, just above them. A long, flowing tail of violet, sky blue and emerald green, while its head shone brighter than the moon among the stars.

At some point, he didn't need to strain his eyes for all around it were particles that danced like fine dust. The sight was dazzling enough to silence the conversation behind his back and leave him at peace, if only for a second.

It was a vision straight out of a dream, an impossibly beautiful night sky.

Then...»

Then Tanjiro looks down; down at the landscape that should be Itomori at that distance, but— something is wrong.

Below him is a blanket of clouds that is brilliantly unfurling. Through them he can see the lake and its water sparkling like silver, but it is beginning to be tinged with faint shades of blue.

And Tanjiro is looking at it.

He blinks.

And he stares.

«Tanjiro remembers that, at some point, when the wind moved the leaves of the trees roughly, he could see with total clarity, how that wonderful star was splitting.

There were two large, bright points and one seemed to be getting closer and closer. In a short time, several delicate shooting stars began to twinkle around it. It was as if the heavens were falling. That night, the stars really did fall.

A fragment was consumed in reddish fire and fell, drifting away from its core and stardust. It fell faster and faster. It fell closer and closer. Little by little, that beautiful image warped into fire and choking dust.»

A shiver runs down his back, from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck, and a sense of absolute dread settles in his chest. A searing fear he can't handle. An anxiety and sadness that threatens to make him lose his mind standing there.

Cold sweat breaks out on his temples, on the palms of his hands that clench into tight fists.

Perhaps it is his own mind playing a trick. Giyu's eyes playing tricks on him. Maybe Tanjiro has already gone mad and snapped before he knows what's going on.

Because—

“The town... is gone...” the voice comes out tight, with what little sticky breath manages to escape from the knot that has settled in his trachea. There are tense lines circling his eyes and an almost painful pinch between his eyebrows.

Because the town is no longer there.

«Tanjiro remembers his sister's screams. Her voice calling out to him in desperation and someone tugging at his arm, insisting that they must run no matter how futile it would prove to be. He remembers the scorching heat. The crackle descending through smoke and ash.

That white, reddish, lethal giant falling towards them. Falling on them, without will or purpose, just because destiny has decided so, until it consumes them by accident.

Killing them instantly.»

The lake is bigger. Where Itomori is supposed to be, there is another body of water that overlaps what was originally the lake. Tanjiro takes a couple more heavy breaths until he feels his legs buckle. His knees give out as if the joints are silently breaking and he ends up kneeling on the ground.

“At that moment… did I…” the air escapes, Giyu's voice barely a strained thread on the verge of breaking “die…?”

Yes…

Tanjiro had died , without being able to love Giyu once again.

What is a memory?

Is it the ability to remember that people have? Is it the images of past events or situations that remain in the mind?

Or is it something inherited? Something that is not necessarily of the you of now. Of the you of this life. But from a previous one.

And where do human memories live?

Are they in the synaptic circuits of the brain? Do retinas and fingertips also store memories?

s it something that can be taken out and put back in, like a memory card in an operating system?

Something that... we can have back?

Giyu Tomioka has asked himself that question more often than he would like. All this mess with the switches and his previous life has made him really question the nature of memories. How is it even possible to remember something that happened to him almost a thousand years ago.

If he wants to get really technical, the word remember comes from the Latin ‘Recordari’.

It is made up of ‘Re-’ which translates as ‘Return’ and ‘Cordis’ which means 'Heart.'

In other words, to remember is to ‘Return to the heart’.

It is not only an act of the mind, but also of the heart, it implies an emotional connection with what is remembered, with what is felt. What one burns in the depths of the eyes, what one tastes with the mouth, perceives with the nose, hears with the ears and feels with the hands.

Everything that remains and accumulates inside oneself.

So, does it answer any of these questions?

Well, there is no concrete answer to it. Each person may have their own interpretation of what a memory is, but for Giyu it has definitely been something that arises from his heart, pumping over and over again driving his whole being to move.

Even now, as Giyu pedals with that effervescent adrenaline coursing through his veins, he can feel everything that goes through his heart, the one that shares a body with Tanjiro's.

It is as if, despite everything, they are together. Tanjiro, or at least a fragment of his heart is still here, becoming one, entangled in that red thread that guides him and extends to the horizon.

His muscles burn, heavy and inviting him to stop. He is sweating too much. Tanjiro's school uniform sticks to his chest and back uncomfortably. His tousled hair falls over his face and his earrings sway roughly, brushing against his neck.

But Giyu pedals on, again and again.

The asphalt has been gone for a while and now the bike climbs up unpaved mountain roads. That same route he took with Tanjiro's family opens up ahead. The low sun flickers through tree branches and dry leaves crunch crushed under the bike's wheels.

His chest rises and falls heavily, trying to take in as much oxygen as possible the further he goes.

In his head, he has been hearing his own voice for a while; not as a thought, but as a memory.

It is tense, serious and pleading, but strangely determined at the same time.

«Listen to me, no matter in what life or in what time, wherever you are in this world, I will find you again.»

Body, memories and emotions are inseparably linked and now Giyu can say with certainty that it is true. That what had been denied to him before is finally opening with a new air inside his heart.

That which had been hidden for too long and that only he could discover.

Vestiges of the battle against Muzan, a thousand years ago.

“Tomioka-san!”

One beat.

“We 're begging you, please don't move!”

Two. Three.

Giyu can feel them crashing in his head, like dull thuds inside his skull, along with the irritable ringing tearing at his ears.

It dulls everything. It consumes everything.

He is not fully aware of the overly heavy rise in his chest as he breathes, nor of the still open wounds in his head, nor of the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, nor of the rough material of his katana's handle between his fingers.

Fuck, he's not even fully aware that one of his hands is no longer there.

Exhaustion sinks into his muscles like lead from overexertion and makes it increasingly difficult to stand, threatening to break his knees. Staying awake is difficult. The wave of adrenaline that had him standing upright dies down periodically, but he can't give up just yet. He's not going to let go yet.

He has to move. He has to find him.

His body reacts before his mind does, pushing the kakushi around him. Someone grabs his left arm trying to stop him, pulling him, saying something he doesn't understand, but Giyu doesn't let them, he pushes them away heavily and awkwardly.

He is not seeing what is around him in reality, he does not distinguish the faces of those who try to help him, neither their voices; his eyes move, wandering in a lazy, lethargic way, reduced to a single urgency, looking for...someone.

Tan...

Tanjiro.

Tanjiro. Tanjiro.

“Where...is Tanjiro...?” his voice sounds raspy, broken and extremely tired; as if each word has to make its way through splinters. Blood slides from his lower lip down to his chin as he opens his mouth, warm and thick, sticking to his skin.

There is a small commotion ahead, a restless murmur. The kakushi are tense, moving stiffly, leaning over...something. He can see them in the crowd of bodies and debris.

They are so close that he could reach them with just a couple of steps, but his gaze doesn't quite focus on the reason for it, and the ringing in his ears has become even more deafening until it fills every corner of his head.

But, for some reason, he gets a bad feeling. The chill of the morning starts to seep in. It sinks into his stomach and causes his eyebrows to furrow in a worried pinch, threatening to consume him.

“Is Tanjiro okay?!” he spits urgently, and it doesn't really sound like a question for all the desperation that seeps into his voice. The visceral need to know, like a gunshot that leaves no room for Giyu to breathe.

Tanjiro.

Tanjiro. Tanjiro.

He wasn't addressing anyone in particular, but someone stops in front of him almost immediately. A woman. He can see her raise her arms and stretch them out to her sides, in another vague attempt to stop him, shield him from whatever is up ahead in a desperate way.

“We—we have to check on you first!” this person says to him, with a pleading, tear-filled look, framed by the open space of the black uniform cover on her face.

But Giyu does not answer her. His body moves again, a step more stubborn than the previous one, passing the kakushi and the pleading in her voice.

And, when he blinks and finally, finally can see ahead, there, on the ground, surrounded by the golden light of the rising sun of a new day, motionless, is Tanjiro.

He is on his knees, the weight of his body leaning forward. His head down. His left arm is gone. His uniform soaked, painted in the morbid red of fighting and blood everywhere.

His earrings are the only thing moving, soft and showy amidst the morning light and chaos.

And yet, his right hand holds what's left of his broken katana tightly. He clings to it as if there is still something to fight against. The flame-shaped hand guard is still there; the same one that once belonged to the Fire Pillar.

Giyu feels— perhaps for the thousandth time that same day— how the air almost dies in his chest. How his heart squeezes until it hurts and his throat closes in a rough knot. His vision is static on Tanjiro and the pounding in his head now seems to stab him.

And amidst the chaos and shock, to his numb ears come the wailing of the three kakushi standing there, surrounding Tanjiro's body. They weep and tremble as they hold him. One shakes his head, as if he doesn't want to accept the situation.

Giyu doesn't want to either.

“He's not breathing—we can't even find his pulse—” one of them says between hiccups on the floor, resting his forehead on Tanjiro's motionless shoulder.

And it's odd because... in that instant, a memory returns to his mind without permission.

An image from the night before. The calm before the storm. When the two of them were alone in his Estate and they were not called to this disastrous war yet.

The memory of Tanjiro's smile, lighting up his face, stretching beyond his lips. That gentle and genuine and innocent smile. So warm...it had bewitched him.

His reddish eyes, sparkling in the moonlight, looking back at him, as if Giyu was the most precious thing to him at that moment. With a tenderness and affection that he didn't quite understand and that made his stomach turn.

That light that pulled him out of the dark pitch he himself had sunk into. Like the warm sun now rising behind them.

His sun. His little sun.

Tanjiro, simply Tanjiro.

The air chokes, almost transforming into something he doesn't know if it's a sob or a spasm trying to get out of his throat. His eyes burn as his tears spill and fall down his cheeks uncontrollably, but it doesn't compare to the fire burning in his chest and lungs.

It burns. It stings so much.

Tanjiro.

Tanjiro. Tanjiro.

The present

The trees have thinned out. It is a small stretch of road with only a weathered wooden fence surrounding it.

From the left side of the road the open landscape of Lake Itomori can be seen. A few wires, pylons and trees get in the way, obscuring even the town houses from view in the distance, but somehow that just makes the composition of the panorama more pleasing.

He feels the air hit him much harder in the face as he pedals and Giyu hurries to wipe the hair from his face along with the sweat.

But try as he might, he can't shake off the twinges of tears in his eyes that have begun to well up without permission.

Giyu takes a step towards him, feeling that his legs don't belong to him; then another and another. Each one firmer than the last. As if a strange force, an invisible thread drags him towards Tanjiro.

His own katana falls in a dull thud on the ground, the metallic sound getting lost immediately, swallowed by the thick silence that surrounds them, but he doesn't care. The kakushi who tried to stop him a moment ago holds him by the arm when she sees him stagger and Giyu just lets her be. He doesn't have the strength to refuse.

She helps him over and his knees finally give way and, with a suddenness that makes him hiss in pain, Tomioka kneels in front of Tanjiro.

The other kakushi share a glance and move a little away, just enough to leave only the two of them in that short instant.

Giyu, his hand trembling, blindly finds his way to Tanjiro's grip on the katana. His skin is still warm beneath the blood that stains it and for an instant it is as if he is only asleep.

Giyu's lip trembles as he opens his mouth trying to say something, anything, but all that comes out is another sob. A stretched and broken one.

His weight leans forward as a new stab pierces through his chest. His forehead touches Tanjiro's, his hair tickling his skin drawing a halting sigh, but there is no reaction from him.

And Giyu stands there, maybe for a second; or maybe for a cruel eternity, just crying, squeezing Tanjiro's hand tightly, waiting, begging for him to hold it back.

But nothing happens.

“I'm sorry...” he says then, when he finally finds his voice, like a faint whisper. Every word feels like it scrapes inside, as if confessing them would open up yet another wound. He has to swallow the lump in his throat, force himself to take a sharp intake of breath to not break into tears one more time: “I failed to protect someone I loved—again.”

Again...

It always happened again and again.

Again and again, someone must die in his place. When he promises himself it won't happen, when he fights with all his might to avoid it, when he promises himself he will protect those he loves—he always fails!

It is always the same.

The same story. The same endless cycle. The same fairy tale with the same unhappy ending.

“I'm always the one who ends up being protected by others” Giyu continues.

The frustration doesn't fit in his chest. The feeling of helplessness and anger with himself, burn like red-hot iron and twist him inside, choking him more than any of his physical wounds or the very taste of blood on his palate.

He felt it with his sister, he felt it with Sabito and now with—

Now with his sun.

Tanjiro—

“I'm so sorry...”

The weight of that certainty bends him, as if his own spine is giving way. He wants to scream until his throat tears, but only succeeds in making his breath break into gasps.

“Forgive me, Nezuko.”

How... is she?

If everything went well, she must have woken up human by now and...unaware that her brother has....

Will she be able to forgive him?

To look him in the eyes and...see someone other than the coward who was unable to accept that he loved her brother and couldn't protect him in the end.

No. He doesn't deserve that.

He knows that no apology, no oath, can erase this stain. All he is left with is that warm hand that no longer responds, and the poisonous pang of knowing that no matter how long he lives, he will never forgive himself.

Giyu straightens up backwards, just a little, just enough to take a breath. However, Tanjiro's weight seems to follow him, as if seeking to stay with him, because he feels him leaning in his direction even more. His left arm comes up instinctively, wrapping around him, almost embracing him immediately as best he can.

He feels the warmth on his skin and rests Tanjiro's head against his shoulder, as if that gesture might give him some strength back.

Tomioka maneuvers for a second, a bit awkwardly and with the little strength he has left, pulling Tanjiro closer to himself. He curses the lack of his right hand now. If he had it, he could hold him better. If he had it, maybe he could have protected him better.

It takes him a little while, but he finally manages to settle him against his chest. Laying his head on the place where Giyu's heart beats heavy and melancholy. It's not perfect, nor is he completely on his lap as half of Tanjiro's body still rests on the ground, but he holds him anyway.

And Giyu does not let go.

Tomioka watches him for a heartbeat, trying to carve in the back of his eyes every detail of his face. To burn it into memory, never to forget: the long, bushy eyelashes that cast shadows on his cheeks; the smooth skin of a warm tone, like honey in summer; the round curve of his nose; the mark on his forehead; his eyelids closed as if he were just sleeping.

And those pesky earrings.

His sun. His beautiful sun.

Tanjiro.

Tanjiro. Tanjiro.

Giyu sobs low and choked and hugs him tighter with his one arm. His hand trembling, his fingers sinking into the messy reddish hair, feeling its softness intermingled with the dried blood.

He shrinks over him, leaning forward again, almost seeking more closeness with Tanjiro's body. Feels the sting of tears as they spill over and the choking knot squeeze his trachea so tightly that it seems to keep him from whispering.

“Tanjiro...” he says, his lips on his forehead. Warm breath brushing the mark on it, as if it could breathe life into him once more. “Please...forgive me.”

And... he seems to do so.

Sweat drips down his chin. His hands clench the handlebars tightly. His legs move slower pushing the pedals and before he knows it, the front wheel of the bike catches on the root of a tree sticking out of the dirt and Giyu slips.

Reflexively his hand shoots out to catch with all his might on a nearby tree trunk as the bike slides underneath and tumbles down the small slope beside the road. It hits the ground with a thud perhaps three meters below.

The wheels are bent and the rims are shapeless. He could even swear they've run out of air, but he couldn't say for sure, nor is he going to stop to find out.

Tomioka propels himself upward and rolls across the ground. His clothes fill with dirt, but he gets to his feet immediately and starts running, leaving the bicycle forgotten among the vegetation and breathlessly muttering an apology to Inosuke.

He begins to climb up the narrow mountain path.

“Gi.. yu..”

For a moment he thinks he's imagining it. That his desperation, his longing to hear that voice again, is playing tricks on him. Or that perhaps he has already crossed the threshold of madness. His heart stops for a beat and then thumps hard, afraid to believe.

“Giyu...”

But he hears it again, that sweet voice uttering his name so close to his ear that it makes his skin crawl, yet so far away, like the ethereal breeze of the wind.

Giyu holds his breath and his eyes flutter open. He straightens with almost reverential care and there, on his chest turning as best he can, is Tanjiro looking back at him, unfocused and through wet lashes. His left eye barely open, glinting back at him, opaque and still alive.

Lovingly, as he always did.

“Giyu...?” he calls once more, weakly. Tanjiro's lips barely moving.

The whole world seems to shrink to that instant. No blood, no ruins, no screams in the distance. Only that sound, that breath that names him.

His sun. His beautiful sun.

Tanjiro.

Tanjiro. Tanjiro.

“Tanjiro—” The air chokes him again and his whole body relaxes as if it has been released from whatever was imprisoning it. He can breathe. He can feel the blood pumping hard, charged with giddy excitement in his veins “It's me— wait, everything 's going to be okay—-the kakushi—!”

He can't form a coherent sentence, his words stumbled by the relief and excitement of seeing him conscious on his lap. By the certainty growing in his chest: there is still time, he can still save him.

It is rather foolish the way he futilely wanted to get up, or that he moved with the intention of doing so, for his legs have gone numb as if the weight of his world had accumulated on them. He is sure that if he were to stand up, he would lose his balance at once.

But a desperate determination pumps in his veins and his head rears up in fear. He anxiously searches for the kakushi who were with them a moment ago among the rubble. They are not so far away and when they look back at him seem to understand him immediately as they approach, with that same urgency in their bearing and in every footfall on the ground.

That shared urgency that gives him a thread of hope.

Giyu is about to rush them, tell them he is still alive and order them to attend and stabilize him immediately, but the instant he makes the gesture and wants to speak, reluctantly pull him away from his grasp so they can heal him, Tanjiro stops him.

“No—!” he says, louder than he would have thought capable in his state. The katana, which he was holding tightly a few moments ago, falls from his grip, slipping to the ground next to Giyu's.

With his only hand now free, Tanjiro holds onto Giyu as best he can, with unexpected strength.

He grips the uniform in his fist and pulls even closer to Giyu, flatly refusing to move away from his embrace, from his warmth. Tomioka freezes and looks back at Tanjiro, frowning in disbelief and fear.

“What—?” he tries to ask.

"Don't leave me—" Tanjiro cuts him off and it's a plea that cuts through him like a knife. His reddish eye, clouded with fatigue, reflect the same fear he feels.

A fear not of death, but of parting from him.

The kakushi get to where they are; two immediately kneel down to his level and hold out their hands to intervene, but Giyu stops them with a mute and brief gesture, asking them to wait.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see them trembling with urgency as they want to help, but abide by the orders regardless.

"They will heal you— Tanjiro please—" Giyu insists in a strained thread of voice, on the verge of breaking, not bothering to hide the desperation that drains him completely.

He has started shaking again and tears threaten to fall once more.

However, Tanjiro shakes his head. It is not an abrupt gesture, but he stubbornly refuses, ignoring the pillar's plea. He clings to that decision like an anchor. And in his eye is an acceptance more painful than anything else.

“No...I...” he replies, each word more slurred than the last, his breath faint, but strangely confident. “I'm going to die soon...Giyu...”

Those words— that certainty in the way he says it and looks into his eyes— stick like soul-splitting knives into Giyu's soul. There is no hesitation, no doubt in what he says. Just an understanding that Tomioka doesn't want to accept. The hole in his stomach, in his guts, expands devouring everything and his heart falls into it.

He sucks in air sharply through his nose, as if it's about to run out. His body completely tenses again. The grip of his hand on Tanjiro's head tightens; not to the point of hurting him— never to the point of hurting him— but of wanting to hold him closer. To embrace him. To feel him against his own body.

To let the warmth tell him that it's still there, and that it's not going away.

“No— Tanjiro— please—” his voice breaks into another low wail and it bristles the skin of the kakushi around them.

Tears are already sliding down his cheeks and down the curve of his nose to the tip, where they wobble for a heartbeat and fall onto Tanjiro's face.

Tanjiro blinks at the feel of them, but doesn't let go. He clings with his one hand to Giyu's uniform, knuckles tense, as if letting go would hasten his death that much more.

“Just...stay with me...” Tanjiro begs.

It's a whisper so pure, so fucking absolute that Giyu can only swallow saliva, press his lips together and force himself to nod, agonizingly accepting what he's asking of him. It's not because he wants to. It's because Tanjiro is asking him to, and to refuse would be to break something he would never know how to put back together again.

Acceptance feels like a hot iron sinking into his chest.

His sun. His beautiful sun.

Tanjiro.

Tanjiro. Tanjiro.

He doesn't have to say anything else, or even look up for the kakushi to understand. It is an unspoken agreement that neither wants to keep, but they will do it anyway, even if remorse weighs on their conscience for the rest of their lives.

The two who were on the ground stand up heavily, still hesitating, but not daring to take a step further. They will not move away, even if it might break their hearts.

They stand there, tense, surrounding both slayers, sharing the helplessness and absolute fear of one of them.

Soon the mountain scenery changes as he climbs.

Orange is replaced by green that remains untouched all year round. Tall, leafy trees, almost completely blocking out the sun's path, but not so much as to leave the site in gloom. Rather, they are ethereal, quiet shadows in the shimenawa belts that hug the tree trunks.

Giyu runs with all his might among them. His feet sinking into the earth and grass, with each step more determined than the last. His eyes have stung again and this time the tears are no longer held back. He doesn't bother to hold them back. They just slide down his cheeks reddened by the effort and fall, blowing in the chill evening wind.

His chest aches. His heart pounds and contracts a little more.

One beat.

Two. Three.

Giyu's grip still twitches. If he's honest, he doesn't know what to do right now with the sickening hole in his chest that expands as the seconds pass.

Tanjiro finally moves. So, oh so very slowly, he lifts his arm. He seems to struggle from exhaustion, but he is determined all the same. One hand reaches for his left cheek, and Giyu moves in getting even closer to the touch, cradling his own face there, almost desperately.

And Tanjiro smiles. Smiles despite the tears and the blood. He smiles and looks at him so lovingly it makes him want to scream again.

“I am ..... glad.... to be able to ....hear Giyu's voice and feel his embrace...” he expresses, very faintly with a drop of voice. “one last time.”

Giyu passes saliva.

“Please don't say that...” he begs, perhaps for the thousandth time.

Tanjiro still smiles, however. His thumb moves gently over Tomioka's pale skin, seeking to comfort him, to wipe away his tears somehow.

It doesn't work.

“I mean it...” he replies. “It's okay—”

“No—it's not okay!” It's Giyu who interrupts this time. It's a sob that comes out loudly. A denial filled with choking anguish that wrenches his voice like nothing else has. Not since his sister died. Not since Sabito died.

“You don't understand—” Giyu whispers, like a jealously guarded secret, “I cannot exist in this world... if you are not in it.”

The confession is direct. It fills the air and covers them with a woven tapestry that holds an absolute truth among the patterns of the grand design. A coded message that you don't have to look too hard to figure out.

It is there. As clear as spring water, even if Giyu doesn't have the courage or is even worthy to say it.

Tanjiro understands. The spark of understanding crosses the redness of the eye that looks back at him with a flash of surprise. He trembles, Tomioka feels him tense barely against his chest and lose his breath.

And then, amidst the silence and warm morning light surrounding them, a mellifluous sound rises. A bubbling sound that sinks deep inside him, soothing the darkness.

It is Tanjiro, laughing through tears, but not saddened, on the contrary, he does it in a genuine, relieved, happy way. It is infectious as Giyu instinctively responds to it. He leans into him, snuggles him even closer to his chest until their foreheads touch and thinks there is no sound more beautiful than that.

His lips threaten to purse in a bitter downward grimace.

His sun. His beautiful sun.

Tanjiro.

Tanjiro. Tanjiro.

Tanjiro lets out a sigh full of affection, sniffles, and, with that beautiful, kind smile, looks at him, with reciprocated feelings.

“Oh, Giyu...” his voice sounds wistful, exhausted, “It makes me...so happy...to have met you.”

Giyu feels his lip tremble and tears fall more insistently. His throat burns and he wants to deny it. To tell him he doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve his words of comfort and just please don't say anything else— he wants to stop him before giving the chance to say it back, before he can return the feeling to him.

“ No—” Giyu whispers first, like a muffled echo falling on deaf ears. “Don't say it—”

But it's no use, for Tanjiro confesses, warm and full of love, just like the glow of distant stars, words that make him shudder even more.

“Because....from the bottom of my heart.... I.... love you Giyu.”

It's as if he's been stabbed straight through the heart and his ability to breathe like a normal person is taken away. Giyu closes his eyes and his face sinks into the hollow of Tanjiro's neck trying to run away and stifle the new sob that comes from his throat.

His shoulders tremble, his hand squeeze him desperately, as if he could melt with him and disappear right there. He wants to say “no” again, to say he doesn't deserve it... but the word dies in his throat, swallowed by the unbearable need not to let go.

Instead of denying him, all he manages to do is hug him tighter, trembling, his soul overflowing and his mind in pieces.

And Tanjiro repeats.

“I love you.”

He repeats.

“I love you.”

And he repeats.

“I love you...”

His voice still tired and so laden with love that clings to every syllable.

“And... I have no regrets other than... I didn't tell you sooner...” the last of it dies as his voice breaks, bitter, honest.

The kakushi beside them tremble, weeping silently in that thick atmosphere. They must hold their hands over their mouths and clutch their own wails to keep from bursting the dense bubble they've been sucked into.

All around them there is silence. The chaos of the battle has subsided, they have counted the dead and stabilized the wounded and some have begun to approach, curious and concerned at the scene.

But no one dares to say anything. Because nothing matters but the two of them now. Only Giyu and Tanjiro.

That memory.

The end of the thread finally presents itself in his memory and Giyu lets out a frustrated cry from deep within his heaving chest. The sound echoes through the trees and the swirling clouds, expressing too much, letting out all that disappointment with himself for forgetting something so important.

How could he have forgotten something like that?

His sun. His beautiful sun.

That love. That confession so pure of mutual feelings that had moved him, that had broken every one of his barriers and pierced his soul completely. Giyu screams once more, it sounds like a pathetic sob among the vastness of the mountain.

He runs out of air immediately but keeps moving forward. Even though his muscles are burning and he is bathed in sweat and dirt all over.

His brow is tight and the tears won't stop falling. His heart won't stop echoing in his ears and now his voice rises in his head as well, elated and trembling at the thought:

Years ago—

In our previous life—!

Before all this—!

One beat.

Two. Three.

Giyu can feel them crashing in his head, like dull thumps inside the skull tearing at his ears. He doesn't know if it's his, or Tanjiro's reaching for him there, buried in his neck.

The heat of him envelops him. The faint rise and fall of his chest against his. His ragged breathing brushing against his skin. The smell, familiar and sweet even among the iron of blood. Everything else dissolves. That's all that remains.

It dulls everything. It consumes everything.

There is a thought drilling through that cacophony in his mind. One that begs him, urges him to speak. As if it were another version of himself that has been watching everything as a tiresome and tedious theater.

One that screams at him to stop being a coward and return that love before it's too late.

Say it.

Say it back.

You love him too, don't you?

Then say it—

Tell him you love him— Why won't you tell him?

WHY CAN'T YOU TELL HIM?

But his lips are sealed. His throat has run dry of words and that confirmation of reciprocal feelings never comes. Crushed by fear, by the certainty that this is not how he wants to give it to him.

Giyu doesn't want to. Not like this.

Because Tanjiro deserves more than love in the midst of melancholy. He deserves more than a gentle ephemeral remedy in the midst of pain. He deserves more than an “I love you” that mingles with the smell of blood and the dust of battle.

Tanjiro deserves everything from Giyu. Everything. And how can he give it to him when life is slipping away from him with every breath?

No. Not like this.

He must love Tanjiro as he is meant to: openly, wholly, with the certainty that this love is not tainted by the urgency of a goodbye. In a world where they can live long years, laugh without looking over their shoulder, wake up without the fear of not finding each other.

Where Giyu is not a coward and can accept and admit from the beginning that he is in love with Tanjiro Kamado. So sincerely and romantically. To say it with a firm voice, with a clean look, with his whole life ahead of him.

He loves him. He loves him. He loves him. He loves him. He loves him. He loves him.

He has fallen so, so deep that he can't find a way to get back up because gravity is a thing of the past and the only thing that holds him up is him. Tanjiro.

But not like this. Not while his hand tremble clinging to his clothes, while the heat of his body dissipates second by second.

Giyu feels as if he has the words on his tongue, burning, pressing to get out. But if he utters them now, he fears they will wither with Tanjiro's last breath.

And he doesn't want that to happen. He wants those words to bloom for all that he wants to give him demands more than an instant: it demands another lifetime entirely.

His sun. His beautiful sun.

Tanjiro.

Tanjiro. Tanjiro.

But... how can he, now that fate has decided to take him away in this life?

In... this life...

His shoulders become still. The air suddenly returning and calming the pounding of his heart. Then he swallows everything he wants to say and a new decision settles in his soul.

“Tanjiro....” he calls out to him in a low voice, but cutting into the stillness and skin of his neck.

Giyu straightened up slowly, just a little so he could see Tanjiro face to his face. His tired reddish eye blinks and tries to focus, giving him to understand that he is listening.

Barely.

Tomioka looks at him for a heartbeat and, taking a breath, puffs out his chest giving himself courage, then, says:

“Listen to me,” he begins, a renewed assurance suddenly pumping in his veins “no matter in what life or in what time, wherever you are in this world, I... I will find you again.”

His voice no longer trembles. It no longer cracks. It is a single breath full of seething determination, like a steady blow on the surface of water. His breath hitches, but does not relent, leaning barely toward him as if each word were a sacred oath.

Carved in stone. Like a prayer before a deity who will remember and hold them accountable when it happens. Binding their lives together forever with a delicate thread of red silk.

“I will find you again, no matter what happens... and we will be together” Giyu finally declares.

Tanjiro looks at him, watches as the deep blue glow lights up in Giyu's sharp eyes and how it seems to give him reassurance despite the held back tears. The honesty, the love, the sadness— everything he doesn't put into words but is there, so clear and absolute.

His love returned.

He blinks and something changes; something breaks.

It is not the soft smile with which he tried to keep himself at ease, nor the forced calm he had shown so as not to worry Giyu anymore. Now it is pure vulnerability, a crack through Tanjiros mask. His lips tremble, his breath catches.

And barely, with a thread of voice, Tanjiro exclaims, with a new intrinsic need beating in his weak pulse:

“Promise…?”

Giyu brings his forehead close to Tanjiro's, close enough so that only he can hear him, so that the whole world disappears, and proclaims.

“I promise.”

And when he does... he will love him as he deserves. Openly, wholly, and eternally.

His sun. His beautiful sun.

Tanjiro.

Tanjiro. Tanjiro.

The first sob breaks, mute, in that instant and now it is Tanjiro who cannot bear the weight of what falls on both of them. The façade collapses completely and his voice can only utter, over and over again, how much he loves him.

How he wishes they had more time and how it's not fair. Cursing this war. Cursing the mark and that dance of the Sun God that poisoned him and has him on the brink of death.

Letting out ‘I love you's’ that tasted like a bitter goodbye.

Giyu holds him when his body gives way and embraces tightly, feeling in his chest the tremor of a heart that does not want to give up.

Then there, after their eternity, in the embrace of the man he loves and completely surrounded by him, with the last beat of his heart and his last breath, Tanjiro smiled

Because he was sure that Giyu would keep that promise.

And when that happens he was also sure that he would love him again in the same way.

The kakushi, Nezuko who had just arrived, finally turned human, the slayers who were left standing— all of them, heard with overwhelming clarity, the piercing scream, the broken cry of the Water Pillar's heart, as the body in his chest finally fell motionless consumed by the wounds.

One that no longer responded to his name or pleas for him to wake up.

And, without uttering its presence, above them, high in the sky, a comet passed.

There, in the midst of the morning, standing out among the clouds large and small, one could see lines and brushstrokes painted in the most beautiful shades of purple and blue sky.

A shimmering trail, stretching between the remnant and almost imperceptible rays of sunlight. A long hair of striking intermittent colors that crosses the sky.

Falling somewhere.

Its fragments glow, turning into countless shooting stars. A huge rock fragment turns into a meteor and begins to fall far away.

As if the stars were falling from the sky. Falling under the weight of a promise and the ears of a god whose threads weave the past, the present and the future.

And who would see, in time, that love fulfilled.

Years ago— in our previous life, I—

I—

I promised to you!

His promise.

That was his promise.

To see him again. To meet him again in the endlessness of the world and the eternity of time. No matter how, when or where, Giyu was going to find him. They were going to be together. He was going to love him with all his being and soul.

Giyu takes a leap, barely avoiding falling as he places his hand on the ground and propels himself forward once more. Like a spring, adrenaline, pain, utter joy propel him and when he least expects it the forest landscape has disappeared.

As he approaches the top of the mountain he is surrounded by moss-covered rocks and grasses on the ground covering the earth like a carpet. He passes saliva down his dry throat and the lump in it, to give a final push to his tired feet.

Tomioka stops at the top, in the same place as the first time and takes a big breath of air puffing out his chest. The earrings flutter in the wind, tingling on his neck and he stands for a few seconds unable to move from his spot.

The site remains the same as before, unperturbed and silent in the sunset. That huge crater; the plain formed in the center is painted by green grass and small streams, thin or thick, scattered in a chaotic and messy way.

And in the center of it all, a single tree with a somewhat ancient appearance despite its vibrant green color and all the leaves on its branches.

Tanjiro is here, somewhere at the top of the mountain and Giyu intends to find him no matter what.

Then, as if expelling all the emotions from the pit of his stomach, Giyu takes a breath of cold air and screams at the top of his lungs towards the sunset. Towards that god that has been watching them, for more than a lifetime now.

His sun. His beautiful sun.

"TANJIRO!"