Chapter Text
Shinobu Kochou did not want to be a Hashira.
She promised her sister that they would slay demons like Gyomei Himejima would. They wanted to save people from the same fate that they had suffered.
Shinobu can do that without being a Hashira because her sister would be one, and she would be there beside her. She would weaken those goddamn demons, and Kanae would slice their heads off with the sharp end of her blade.
It was a promise she kept when she was barely eleven. Kanae was fourteen.
Soon, that promise would be granted when Kanae became a Hashira at the age of sixteen. Shinobu would be thirteen.
“Are you sure I should come, nee-chan?” Shinobu asked, nervously stepping inside the Ubuyashiki Mansion. Today was Kanae’s official initiation as Hashira, and they had been summoned. Shinobu preferred waiting by the Butterfly Mansion, but her sister had other plans.
“You helped me slay that Lower Moon, Shinobu. You share this honor with me,” Kanae responded with a smile. “Master extended the invitation to you as well. We must honor it.”
With the mention of the Oyakata, Shinobu knew this discussion had reached its end. She kept quiet as she followed her sister to the heart of the mountain—to the mansion where wisteria trees were in full bloom and stone lanterns were lit despite the sun being high up in the sky.
She would notice the footsteps they would leave, how significantly bigger her sister’s were compared to hers. It never bothered her at all, but it was a vivid reminder of her limitations.
Soon, Kakushis welcomed them by the entrance, while another announced their arrival. The rest of the Hashiras were already there, Himejima included.
“Kanae,” Ubuyashiki called, and then he would turn to her, “and Shinobu. Thank you for being here.”
Such benevolence urged Shinobu to bow her head. She could never look the Oyakata in the eye. Instead, Kanae replied on their behalf. “Thank you for having us, Oyakata-sama. How have you been?”
“I feel fine lately, Kanae. Seeing you all alive and well greatly relieves me.”
While Kanae proceeded to join the Hashiras in front, Shinobu stayed at the side. Again, she didn’t mind. Her heart swelled in happiness and pride to have her sister stand on the same level as Gyomei Himejima. It was a great honor to see Kanae be the person they needed the night their parents were slaughtered by demons.
Shinobu thought that this was fine.
“We’re still waiting for one more person,” Ubuyashiki said.
Shinobu soon heard the crinkling sound of zori sandals stepping against the lush grass behind her, urging her to turn around and see a young man no older than her sister. He was in a standard demon slayer uniform with a haori split down the middle into two contrasting halves. He had deep blue eyes and long, black, unruly hair tied into a ponytail.
He was a bit attractive. If only he didn’t seem too sullen.
“Welcome, Giyuu. How was your trip? I do apologize for calling you while you were on a mission in Kyoto,” Ubuyashiki greeted.
Shinobu realized she was staring. She shifted her gaze back to the front—back to their master. Kanae must’ve caught it with how she threw a small smile at her. Shinobu ignored it.
“Please don’t apologize, Oyakata-sama,” this man named Giyuu replied as he bowed his head. “I apologize for my tardiness. I came late.”
“You came on time. Please have a seat.”
He passed by Shinobu, gaze kept straight, and face indifferent. He didn’t regard the other Hashiras as her sister did. Likewise, he only did as told and joined the rest of the lot, staying at the furthest end.
Shinobu’s first thought was that he seemed lonely.
“Kanae, Giyuu, both of you are outstanding individuals. Will you two support the Demon Slayers as part of the Hashira from now on?”
Shinobu remembered this moment. She remembered how Kanae’s smile was bright and endearing as she replied a dignified yes. It was a stark contrast to Giyuu’s, who was low and solemn, like he didn’t want that kind of honor, but bowed his head and accepted it anyway.
The rest were formalities in which areas were assigned under their command and sightings of the Twelve Demon Moons. Since Kanae and Giyuu killed two of the lower moons, replacements were bound to happen.
When Ubuyashiki dismissed them, Giyuu turned and left, sparing no words, much to the Sound Hashira’s dislike. “What an unflamboyant man.”
Himejima would go to them, offer his congratulations, and also leave for his assigned place. “Congratulations are in order. However, missions will be much more difficult, Kanae. Please exercise more caution.”
Shinobu could understand where Himejima was coming from. No Hashira had killed an Upper Moon for the last century, while they had killed many of theirs. They had to be more careful.
“Are you curious, Shinobu?” Kanae asked when they were finally alone. “About Tomioka-san.”
“Who?”
“The Water Hashira.”
Shinobu blinked slowly, face giving off a curt no. Giyuu Tomioka should be the same age as her older sister. If there was anything she’d be interested in, it would be the wisteria trees in the Oyakata’s mansion.
“I think he’s a great man, Shinobu.” Although she had shared a promise with Kanae to slay demons, her sister was transparent in her wish for a normal life for her. She would nudge her slightly like this. A harmless teasing and a useless basis for a crush.
“Nee-chan, please stop.” Shinobu wouldn’t have it. If Kanae slays demons, then she will too. Even if she couldn’t directly do it.
“Stop? I’m only praising Tomioka-san. I’ve seen him fight, Shinobu. He’s fast and lethal.”
“It’s a given. He’s a Hashira now.”
“I think he’s faster than you.”
Shinobu paused and stared at her sister’s back. Whatever she was doing, she disliked it. “Nee-chan.”
“Alright. I’ll stop.”
“Thank you.”
“For now.” Kanae winked and continued walking, grabbing her hand as they descended the mountain.
Silently, as she followed her sister’s footsteps by sundown, Shinobu made a personal promise to keep Kanae alive. No matter what it takes.
Shinobu Kochou kept all the promises she shared with Kanae. However, there was one she couldn’t.
“… Shinobu, I’m sorry…”
Kanae Kochou died in her arms at the tender age of seventeen. Shinobu was only fourteen, and she had lost another one of her family.
Time came by in a blur after she held her sister’s cold body. One moment, blood from Kanae’s haori soaked hers. And then, she would see the Oyakata bowing his head as he offered his condolences.
With their aid, Shinobu managed to arrange her sister’s funeral and burial. Friends and colleagues came by. She could see how many people had loved Kanae, whether they were demon slayers or normal civilians.
Kanao Tsuyuri, an orphan they adopted, had accompanied Shinobu while she grieved. She used to think the quiet kid had no inkling for swordsmanship, but just like Kanae, Kanao was gifted with the blade. So, Shinobu thought that maybe Kanao could inherit Kanae’s breathing style.
She knew, somewhat, that Kanao grieved in her own way. She wouldn't have stayed by her side if she didn't.
And because a lot of other people grieved for Kanae, Shinobu didn’t find it in herself to show her anger. Her vulnerability.
Uzui came with his wives and helped with the proceedings. Himejima headed the prayer and ceremony. Ubuyashiki personally came with his entire family. And the newly appointed Wind Pillar, Sanemi Shinazugawa, actually consoled her when he got the chance.
“Kochou,” he said with a rough voice but with a touch of sadness. “I’m sorry… for your loss.” He was one of the first Hashira to arrive, and one of those who stayed until the end. He visited the Butterfly Mansion whenever he had the time, and he would always bring homemade ohagi for them.
Kanae was fond of the reckless Sanemi. Shinobu knew that, given how she frequently spoke about him as well. “I’m sorry as well, Shinazugawa-san.”
Sanemi gave her a small, pained smile and patted her head. “You’re too sharp for your age,” he said, before joining Uzui and Himejima on the side.
Shinobu stayed outside, keeping herself busy with those who wanted to share their sympathies. If she did nothing, she’d be reminded of Kanae’s dying words. She’d be reminded of a promise she couldn’t keep, and she’d be reminded of the anger swelling in her chest.
A group of demon slayers stood from afar, whispering amongst themselves as they thought they were out of earshot. “She’s quite fortunate, isn’t she? The little Kochou.”
Shinobu flinched slightly. She heard them call her fortunate to be able to do a proper send-off for Kanae. Most demon slayers didn’t have a body left to mourn for. And the title? Little Kochou. It was simply an insult.
An insult to her physique.
An insult to her abilities.
An insult that was true.
“That’s rude of you.” The stern voice of Giyuu Tomioka pierced through their nerves. They stood still, shocked to have been heard by the Water Pillar. Shinobu turned her cheek and stared blankly at the scene. “Do you have no ounce of honor for your fallen comrade? Kanae Kochou is dead, and you call her sister fortunate?”
“T-Tomioka-sama,” they stuttered, bowing. “W-We humbly apologize! We didn’t mea—”
“Don’t apologize to me,” he interrupted, turning his back toward them as he faced Shinobu. “Apologize to her.”
The demon slayers fretted, running and apologizing to her until they groveled on the floor. Shinobu looked at them, and then at Giyuu. It was the first time she had seen him after the Hashira meeting a year ago. He really did have deep blue eyes comparable to his breathing style, as Kanae once said.
Then, with a small tweak of her lips, Shinobu smiled. “I do admit, I am fortunate that I was able to retrieve my sister’s body, but that doesn’t change the reality that she’s dead.” The demon slayers shivered at her tone. It was unlike the strict little sister they knew. “So, please do your best to slay as many demons as you can. Slay them on my sister’s behalf.”
She let them off the hook. Kanae would, too.
They bowed in thanks with a bit more apology and then glanced at the Water Hashira before they left. Giyuu paid them no mind as he kept his gaze on Shinobu’s, his expression blank.
They were left in a stalemate for a few seconds, then he exhaled, bowed his head, and said, “My condolences, Kochou.”
Shinobu tipped her head and smiled softly. “Will you be going inside, Tomioka-san? Himejima-san and Uzui-san are there.”
Giyuu silently considered it.
“Shinazugawa-san is there, too.”
Then he turned his back to the front entrance, unwilling to enter. “I finished what I came for.”
“Is that so?” Shinobu glanced at Sanemi and him. She guessed they didn’t get along. “Pray to tell, what could that be?”
Giyuu fell silent for a few seconds. His attention briefly went to her clenched knuckle hidden beneath her sister’s haori. “You.”
Shinobu dropped her smile, genuinely caught off guard. “Me?”
The hilt of his sword clunked on his belt buckle as he turned to look at her properly. “You can stop smiling. No one is here but me.”
The facade she wore broke into pieces. Puzzled, she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. How did he know?
“I know what it feels like,” he consoled despite his placid expression. “You can be angry, Kochou.”
That was all he said before he gave Kanae’s memorial one last glance and left. His body disappeared into the street, leaving only the sounds of ruffling leaves and faint footsteps.
Shinobu stood outside until he was completely gone. His words rang inside her mind.
“You can be angry, Kochou.”
The warm morning breeze brushed slightly against the hems of her clothes. Shinobu closed her eyes and smiled genuinely. “Tomioka-san is an odd man, isn’t he, nee-chan?”
“Are you curious, Shinobu? About Tomioka-san.”
Maybe, perhaps, a little.
Shinobu Kochou, now with the absence of her sister, became the first Insect Hashira at the age of sixteen—a breathing style she invented to accommodate her expertise in wisteria poison.
The Butterfly Mansion had been passed down to her ownership. She would follow the way Kanae tended to the injured demon slayers, and soon, she would be the main healer of the whole corps.
Despite Kanae’s passing, Shinobu never truly felt alone. She had Kanao, Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho with her. A few months came by, and she welcomed a female demon slayer named Aoi, a Water Breather user who wanted to quit from the frontline.
Aoi had her reasons. Shinobu could understand. When her tsugukos perished in battles, she even urged Kanao to resign.
Kanao would stare back at her and press her lips to a thin line. It was the only time Kanao would decide for herself, and Shinobu would drop the question altogether.
Visitors would come as well, mostly injured ones. Himejima visited at least once every month, while Shinazugawa would drop by and share ohagi once every three months. Oyakata-sama would habitually send her letters, and once again, Kochou would feel treasured despite Kanae’s absence.
“Kochou-sama, this needs your attention,” Aoi called for her, sliding the door to her laboratory open.
Shinobu stopped grinding wisteria powder in her mortar, attention taken away. “What is it, Aoi?”
“We have an injured man by the gate.”
She quirked a brow. “Then tell the kakushis to bring him to bed.”
“That’s the problem, Kochou-sama. He doesn’t want to be brought to bed.”
Shinobu turned back to her craft. “That’s not the first time this has happened, Aoi. Let the kakushis handle it.”
“But it is! They’re too scared.”
“Scared?” She left her seat, genuinely curious. “Who is it?”
Aoi nervously glanced at the hallway, then back at her. “It’s the Water Hashira.”
“Oh?” Shinobu mused, grabbed her haori from the coat rack, and made her way to the gate. “You should’ve started with that, Aoi.” She patted the girl on her head and smiled. “Leave Tomioka-san to me and let the kakushis attend to the other patients.”
It had been a while since Shinobu had last seen Giyuu Tomioka. Once every six months for the past year, to be precise. Whenever there was a Hashira meeting. They have been assigned to monitor different places. The Oyakata had also given her more time to focus on the Butterfly Mansion.
Besides, when it came to injuries, Giyuu preferred to take care of them himself. It must’ve been bad that he had to come here.
Shinobu saw him standing by the wooden gate as Aoi said. His haori was lightly stained by blood. He had his eyes closed as he steadied his breathing, trying to stem the bleeding.
“I’d like to welcome you to a great evening, Tomioka-san, but it looks like it hasn’t been great to you at all.”
Giyuu opened his eyes, sweat trickling down his face. Dried blood stained the corner of his lips. Shinobu could only imagine the pain he was going through. “Kochou.”
“You were stabbed in the abdomen, and you look like you have a few broken ribs. My, don’t tell me you walked all the way here from your post?” All it took was a glance. When Giyuu didn’t reply, Shinobu turned and gestured for a few kakushis to come and bring in a stretcher.
“No need,” he dismissed. She wasn’t having it.
“Oh? And why is that, Tomioka-san?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Do you think Total Concentration Breathing can stitch your abdomen for you? Fix your ribs back into place?”
“...”
“That’ll be great if it's true, isn’t it, Tomioka-san? I wouldn’t have to gather herbs and constantly learn medicinal practices if all it takes is breathing to save someone’s life. Maybe I can finally have the house all to myself and the girls if we don’t have injured demon slayers coming in every day.”
“I—”
Shinobu tilted her chin, eyes focused on his abdomen. He might’ve stopped most of the bleeding, but it needed immediate attention. “Oh, but please, don’t take another step, Tomioka-san. Your broken rib might puncture your lungs, and you won’t be able to do Total Concentration Breathing anymore. It’d be devastating, you know?”
“Kochou,” he called, voice low and strained. “I get it.”
Then, she gave him a real smile. The kakushis prepared the stretcher, and Giyuu willingly let himself get carried. Shinobu instinctively reached for his hand, the one he mainly used to hold his sword, and gently squeezed it. “I’ll take care of you.”
It wasn’t out of the ordinary. Shinobu encouraged all of her patients.
Giyuu looked at her silently, face pale from the blood loss and breathing softly into exhaustion. He nodded slowly, and Shinobu felt him squeeze back before he let go.
She watched him get brought inside, feeling the warmth of his touch linger on her palm.
Yes. This should be normal.
Contrary to everything normal, Giyuu recuperated in just two days. He was up, uniform on, and sword strapped to his waist.
Shinobu caught him staring at the empty room. Bed made and pillows stacked. “Hmm? Already leaving me, Tomioka-san?” Giyuu shifted his leg to hers, eyes settling on her butterfly haori. He didn’t have his. “You’re missing your haori?”
He nodded. Certainly a man of few words.
“I have it here, Tomioka-san,” she said as she raised his clothing freshly dried from the laundry. “It was a challenge to remove the bloodstains, but Aoi-chan worked hard. You should thank her before you leave.”
He reached out to take it, but Shinobu stepped back. “Nah-ah, Tomioka-san. There’s still a hole that needs to be patched. Can you wait for a little more?”
Without waiting for a response, she passed by him and sat at the edge of his hospital bed. His mismatched haori lay on her lap, soft from too many washes, and sleeves torn open in a clean crescent cut.
He stayed in his spot, watching as she threaded the needle with quiet focus—hands steady and patient. A simple whipstitch, just enough to close the gash and keep the cold out.
“Was it a lower moon?” She asked. The one who caused him such trouble.
“One of them was. I fought four demons that night.”
“Did they use swords, too?” The hole in his haori was sliced neatly by a sharp blade.
He deliberated whether he should answer her or not. Shinobu could tell. “I wasn’t the first to get to them.”
“Oh… there were demon slayers who came before you?”
“And those demons used their corpses against me,” he continued, eyes darkened. “I let my emotions get the best of me.”
She hummed, eyes half-lidded and sullen. “Oyakata-sama had their funerals done yesterday. He was worried about you, Tomioka-san.” When he chose silence once more, she chuckled. “I’m sure they’re resting peacefully now. You have avenged them.”
Giyuu looked up from his haori to her smiling face. There it was again. That look of defeat. “I was late.”
“I used to say the same thing when Nee-chan died. Shinazugawa-san had to knock me off my feet to remind me it’s not my fault.” She let out a soft laugh, no louder than the rustle of his clothes. “You gave them justice, Tomioka-san.”
Shinobu had yet to give Kanae one.
She tugged the thread tight in each motion, pulling the frayed edges back together. Not a beautiful stitch, maybe, but strong. The kind of fix you only noticed if you were looking for it. Shinobu was almost done, and the silence was deafening.
She should ask something. “Ne, Tomioka-san, do you know how to sew?” Giyuu shook his head—his bangs cascaded over his azure eyes. “It’s a handy skill to learn, but I suppose you might prick yourself since you’re new to it.”
“...”
“Tomioka-san, are things usually like this with you?”
Giyuu merely raised his eyes, as if he asked what it was.
“Quiet and awkward,” she clarified.
Giyuu blinked twice, and then he shifted his gaze to the open window. “I’m quiet because I chose to be, but I’m not awkward.”
She sucked in a breath and feigned surprise. “You’re not?”
He stared at her—like, really stared at her, partly offended. That managed to make a reaction out of him—if that was even considered one. “Kochou, I’m not.”
Her smile widened pleasantly. At least this felt like a real conversation. “I see. Well, you should try talking more. The kakushis are scared of you.” She tied a knot as she finished her stitching. The hole was gone. The scar remained, of course, but it would hold for now. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” he said almost immediately, and she gasped.
“Am I dreaming? Tomioka-san, you know how to show appreciation.”
Giyuu only sighed as he wore his haori, smoothing out the hems as it fell to his legs. “You helped me, both in my clothes and my wounds,” he briefly explained.
“Of course, I would. You’re a dear comrade, Tomioka-san. I wish you’d rely on my people more when you get injured.” She undid the ties of her gourd bottle and handed it to him. “Please take this just in case. I mixed painkillers inside.”
She expected him to say no, yet he simply took the gourd from her hands and tied it to the other side of his waist. Again, he said, “Thank you.”
Ah, so many surprises in one day. Shinobu could only handle so much. “You’re very much welcome. If your haori needs a little stitching, please do pay a visit. I’ll fix it for you.”
He made his way to the door, no words spoken. What a truly awkward man.
“That goes the same for injuries! Even the smallest ones!” She hollered, but he kept walking until he reached the end of the hall.
Then he paused, meeting her eyes. “You’ve changed, Kochou.”
She hummed, tilting her head to the side. “Is that a compliment?”
The last she saw was the slight bow of his head, and that was enough to lighten the burden in her heart.
Shinobu later received her gourd bottle from a kakushi. It was filled with herbal tea to improve skin complexion. He had also sent a bag of tea leaves enough for her to last a year.
“The Water Hashira said you were pale,” the kakushi relayed.
This had always been her natural complexion. She didn’t think Giyuu would pay attention to her appearance. She didn’t even think he knew he bought too much.
Later that night, Shinobu would drink herbal tea with milk and honey while she continued concocting her poisons. It tasted quite pleasant.
She wrote to Giyuu the next day, thanking him for the tea, while thinking she wasn't the only one who had changed.
For the next year, Shinobu had been seeing Giyuu often.
The Oyakata frequently assigned them to joint missions after she had adjusted to her position as a Hashira and a healer. Not to mention, this frequency started after Giyuu had been badly injured.
“Probably because Tomioka-san talks more with you, Shinobu-chan!” The Love Hashira would say.
As the year went by, talented people joined their ranks as Hashira. Shinobu remembered how she had been promoted, and then Rengoku-san succeeded his father. Soon, Iguro-san, Mitsuri-chan, and Muichirou-san would also share the responsibility.
It had been a while since they had this many Hashira. Shinobu was happy they had maintained this number for six months now. She even became good friends with them.
“Is that so? But I think he talks to me because I talk a lot. After all, he was forced to.”
Kanroji shook her head, braids swinging. “He talks because he wants to! It might not seem like it, but Tomioka-san is quite a chatter when he’s with you. Do you think he likes you?”
“Likes me?”
“Like-like you?”
Shinobu highly doubted that. Whenever they were on missions, Giyuu would either nod, stare into space, or tell her to stop poking him. She couldn’t help but tease him because of that. “Ne, Mitsuri-chan, do you want my dango?”
Her face brightened by a mile, forgetting about Giyuu altogether. “Let’s share it! We’re both growing women, after all.”
Shinobu smiled, satisfied that she diverted the topic.
Merrily, Mitsuri ate her part of the dango. It only took a few seconds before she finished it. “Speaking of Tomioka-san—”
Shinobu stopped eating.
“—he’s been a Hashira for quite a long time, hasn’t he?”
Four years wasn’t that long, but for a Hashira, it was a commendable time. Kanae was only a Hashira for a year before she died. “Well, he was promoted the same time as my older sister.”
“You have a sister, Shinobu-chan?”
“Yes, but she’s not with us anymore,” she answered with a small smile. Kanroji had a worried expression, guilty to have accidentally brought this topic up. Shinobu didn’t mind it one bit. “It’s fine, Mitsuri-chan, I remember my sister fondly despite it all.”
And by remembering Kanae, Shinobu would be reminded of her goal.
“Ah, Tomioka-san! What a coincidence to see you here.” Kanroji’s cheery voice pulled Shinobu back to the present.
She looked up and saw Giyuu coming out of an udon store. He still wore his standard demon slayer uniform despite it being morning. On the other hand, she and Kanroji wore civilian clothes.
“My, Tomioka-san, you’re really dedicated to the job, aren’t you?” Shinobu greeted, getting up from her seat.
“Kochou,” he greeted. “Kanroji.”
Shinobu could hear Kanroji’s inner thoughts as she beamed. He greeted me! It’s the first time!
“If you don’t mind me asking, where are you off to this morning?” She asked, curious.
Without a pause, he answered. “To your estate.”
Kanroji muffled a squeal, looking back and forth between the two. Shinobu could guess what was happening inside her love-stricken mind. It might've reminded her how Kanae would be the same.
But just like then, she ignored it. “Oh? Were you injured? Or are you visiting anyone admitted?”
Giyuu stared at her, forming the right words to say. He raised his sleeve, showing a side of his haori that had been torn. “A demon tore my haori.”
“...If your haori needs a little stitching, please do pay a visit. I’ll mend it for you.”
Surprisingly, Giyuu had a good memory. Shinobu couldn't help but chuckle in amusement. “I see. Let me mend it for you. Can you take it off? The tear might get bigger if you keep wearing it.”
Promptly, he shed off his haori and handed it to her. Shinobu folded it neatly, treating it with utmost care. Then, she carried it against her chest, turning to her friend.
“Mitsuri-chan—”
Kanroji was enjoying this the most. “Oh, don’t mind me, you two! I have some business here in the city. Remember to have some fun, okay?”
Then, she sprinted away, leaving dust in her wake.
Giyuu blinked at her, gaze moving to Shinobu. “What does she mean by fun?”
“I wouldn't know.” She would. It was ridiculous. “Walk with me, Tomioka-san.”
So he did.
They walked side by side in the crowded street of Tokyo, letting the buzzing sound of life around them speak for itself. Although she often badgered him to talk, she didn't mind a quiet walk together. She respected his choice of silence at times.
Besides, he was considerate of her, even if he didn’t say it.
Being a healer and a demon slayer, she was a highly observant person. She knew how fast he normally walked, but he matched his pace with hers whenever they were together. She appreciated it.
They passed by a textile shop, and Shinobu halted. Giyuu stopped walking, too.
“Tomioka-san, I think this color suits you.” She pointed to a plain white textile. “Your haori is quite flashy, so a plain color underneath would be good. Our uniform is black, so white will be great as casual attire, no? At least for a top.”
Giyuu observed how she called for the attendant and pulled the textile closer to him. Without much thought, she reached for his arm and tugged him closer.
“For pants, I guess black will do.”
“I don't need one, Kochou.” Yet he didn't move away.
Shinobu raised her index finger. “I admire your resolve to kill demons, Tomioka-san, but you need a life beyond your uniform. It starts with clothes. Clothes, I tell you. Even Shinazugawa-san wears a kimono when he goes to town, since his uniform shows too much skin.”
He furrowed his brows, still unconvinced.
“See this, Tomioka-san? I’m wearing a kimono under my haori.” She gestured to herself. Her clothing was decorated with Sakura petals. “You should choose a color that fits you, like white.”
Giyuu stared at her blankly. It might’ve annoyed her.
Not that she vied for his attention, but men would usually get flustered in normal circumstances. She was aware of her effect on other people, too. Stuttered words. Reddish face.
And him? He was just as stoic as a statue.
“It fits you, too,” he replied with that low voice of his. “Your haori—it’s white. It used to be Kanae’s, but it looks good on you.” Plus, with a butterfly design.
He said it so casually, she almost didn’t hear. Then the silence came.
She blinked. Once.
Twice.
Then her heart stumbled. “Oh my, I didn’t think you’d have it in you, Tomioka-san,” she abruptly said, letting go of the clothing. The attendant sulked at the corner. “You can praise other people, too!” Her voice was three octaves higher than usual. She hoped Giyuu wouldn’t notice it.
But he did.
“I only said what I observed,” he explained, moving back as he waited for her to follow. “Kochou, is there something wrong?”
“Hmm?” She didn’t look at him, walking briskly as he stayed behind her.
This. This was not normal.
“You sound… odd.”
“One moment you’re praising me, now you’re not. You should choose one side, Tomioka-san.” She wasn’t even walking at this point. Her geta sandals thumped against the ground.
Giyuu followed her pace. “You stopped your Total Concentration Breathing,” he continued—which only annoyed her more. A Hashira shouldn’t make such a clumsy mistake.
“I—”
Her sandals snapped. Shinobu stumbled on her step.
Before Giyuu could catch her, she tucked his haori close to her chest and planted her hand on the ground, giving herself a boost as she landed cleanly on her feet. He stared ahead for a long moment, jaw tight, shoulders still. His arm was outstretched, as if he was going to grab her.
Then finally, he blinked. Once. And recollected himself. “Are you, perhaps, ill?”
What a truly odd man.
Maybe she was, too.
Shinobu bit back a hearty laugh, shoulders shaking and cheeks flushing. “I’m not ill, Tomioka-san. Just… feeling a bit odd lately. And, if someone slipped, the first thing you should do is ask if they are okay, not if they are ill.”
Gently, she dusted off the ends of her kimono and checked on his haori. “Ah, don’t worry about your haori. I kept it safe.”
Giyuu didn’t seem concerned. He gazed down and saw her broken sandals, his thoughts going to places. It couldn’t be mended if he tied it. “Kochou.”
“Yes, Tomioka-san?”
He crouched in front of her without a word, hands steady as he offered his back.
She hesitated. “Are you sure?”
He glanced over his shoulder, just enough to catch her eyes. “Come on.”
Shinobu shook her head, defeated. Her arms wrapped around his neck, legs settling around his waist. He rose slowly, adjusting her weight with practiced ease. “You’re lighter than you look,” he murmured.
A smile made its way to her face. Most people would comment on her height. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Don’t.” But his voice was soft. Almost amused.
They soon walked their way back to the Butterfly Mansion. Looks were garnered, of course, but Shinobu paid no mind to it. She was too occupied with messing with him to care. She asked him what kind of stitching he would prefer and if he wanted anything in return for carrying her. Then he would ignore her and say—
“Kochou, don’t you run out of questions?”
“Speaking of questions, Tomioka-san, do you want a butterfly embroidery in your haori?”
He sighed. “No.”
Mitsuri’s question echoed in the back of her mind. “Do you think he likes you?”
Shinobu didn’t know, but she realized she might’ve been fond of Giyuu more than she’d admit as he carried her back to her house.
Giyuu had been hiding teenagers from the corps—a demon named Nezuko and her brother, Tanjiro. She knew he harbored deep sincerity for his colleagues, but he also bore hatred for demons. So, this was, none short of a shocker.
And, for once, Shinobu was angry at him.
She wasn’t angry because Giyuu hid a demon. She was angry because he didn’t tell her properly.
Throughout the years they’d known each other, she thought, at least, that he would ask for her help defending these kids from the other Hashiras—that he’d tell her and make her understand why he was doing this. He had exchanged swords with her and even restrained her under his arms, yet still, he didn’t properly say anything.
Maybe she was the only one who considered the other as a friend. Maybe Giyuu never really thought differently of her from the rest of their colleagues.
How useless, she thought. Shinobu would still defend the Kamado siblings even if he didn’t ask her for it.
Fortunately, she was a master of her emotions. Even if she was still displeased at him, she made sure Giyuu knew how the siblings were faring. “They are resting in the Butterfly Mansion. You can visit them, Tomioka-san.” There were two other people with them. Inosuke and Zenitsu.
Giyuu halted his steps. He was about to leave after the Hashira meeting. His gaze remained forward. Unshaken. “It’s okay. I know they’re in good hands.”
Good grief.
It was either that Shinobu was foolish or he was getting better at communication because her anger dissipated by a mile on a simple sentence.
She smiled softly. If her sister were to learn about this, she would’ve bothered her to no end. He had her wrapped around his finger. “Tomioka-san, it seems I’ve spoiled you with my services. Don’t you think you should treat me better? Let’s see… how about when you talk to me, you turn around and look at me properly?”
He stood frozen, guilty of the claim. Although he wasn’t obligated to share his troubles with Kochou, he did, somewhat, trouble her with the lack of explanation on his part.
“Turn around, Tomioka-san.”
He turned, face stoic and dazed. “Good. Now, repeat after me. Will you—”
“Will you—”
“—eat soba—”
“—eat soba—”
“—with me?”
“—with… me?”
Shinobu had a close-eyed smile, pleased. “My, I never thought you’d ask, Tomioka-san. Sure, let’s have soba together! I still have to check on Inosuke-kun and Zenitsu-kun, so let’s meet before sundown. The usual place, right?”
Giyuu, barely processing the events, merely stared back at her.
“Alright. See you later, Tomioka-san.” She didn’t give any room for retort as she waved her hand and left.
The residents of the Butterfly Mansion would notice her pleasant mood throughout the day. It felt undeniably satisfying that she had the upper hand against that man. Even her patients, notably Tanjiro-kun, could smell that she felt great.
"Shinobu-san, did something good happen?” He asked.
Shinobu patted his head, smiling. “Nothing unusual. Perhaps, your steady recovery, Tanjiro-kun. Nezuko-chan has been sleeping well, too.” She could understand how Giyuu had a soft spot for these two. They were quite adorable.
“Please, it’s all thanks to your hospitality.” He bowed his head, immensely grateful. “Thank you for sticking out for us even back at the Hashira meeting.”
“You give me too much credit. Tomioka-san was also there. He stopped Iguro-san from choking you.”
“I’m always grateful to Giyuu-san! He found me and Nezuko—” Giyuu-san?
They were on a first-name basis?
“—I don’t think we’ll be spared if a different Hashira had seen us…” he mumbled, then stuttered over his words. “O-Oh! But I think things might turn out good if it were you, Shinobu-san.”
Shinobu hummed. “I wouldn’t know, Tanjiro-kun. Maybe Tomioka-san is nicer than I.” Giyuu had a soft side, it turns out. She hadn’t seen it yet. “How long have you two known each other?”
“Hmm… I think two years?” Two years? Shinobu was eighteen now, and she had known Giyuu since she was thirteen.
“Do you like him?”
“Eh?” He mouthed, caught off guard. “Uhm, Giyuu-san has always been nice to me and Nezuko. He helped us when we had nothing. He had more reason to kill us than to spare us, so I’m eternally grateful for his kindness.”
“So, you like him.”
“As a person, yes.”
“Hnn…”
“Do you like him, Kochou-san?”
She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. What a straightforward man. Shinobu hadn’t met anyone like him. Instead, she gave him a close-eyed smile and answered, “Tomioka-san is easily misunderstood, Tanjiro-kun. However, I grew to know him in time. He’s a likable man when he tries hard.”
Tanjiro nodded enthusiastically. “So, you like him.”
Shinobu let out a laugh. It was an insane thought, but it was true. “I guess I do.”
Despite the one-sided invitation, Shinobu would see Giyuu in front of the Soba shop, waiting for her by sundown. She waved a hand, called out his name, and he would turn to look at her, just as she told him to do so.
She paid attention to how he let her go inside first, pick their seat, and order before he did. “Tomioka-san, I couldn’t believe it, but there’s someone who actually likes you.”
Giyuu choked on his noodle, falling into a coughing fit. Shinobu laughed softly and handed him a glass of water. “It’s quite the surprise, isn’t it? A pleasant one.”
He drank from his glass and recollected himself. “I’m not disliked, Kochou.”
“It’s great if things are truly like that, wouldn’t it, Tomioka-san? Iguro-san and Shinazugawa-san were this close to raising their fists against you.” She raised her hand, calling the soba shokunin. “One serving of simmered salmon with daikon, please. Thank you.”
Giyuu chewed slowly, deep blue eyes boring a hole in her head.
“It’s odd how you forgot to order it,” she simply said.
He swallowed his noodle, eyes downcast. “I didn’t.”
“Hmm?”
“I was thinking you grew tired of it.” Since they were eating it after missions.
Shinobu shook her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I only eat it whenever I’m with you. So, no, I’m not tired of it since we rarely eat together.” Then, she ate slowly and relished the rich taste of freshly cooked soba. “Maybe we should eat more often, Tomioka-san? Mitsuri-chan knows a lot of delicious restaurants—”
She was so lost in sharing her stories with Mitsuri that she failed to notice Giyuu’s undivided attention to the way she eats. When the simmered salmon arrived, Giyuu split it perfectly in half and gave her portion without a word.
“Ah, thank you, Tomioka-san. Where was I?”
“Western clothing,” he replied. “How popular it is in Tokyo.”
Ah. So he had been listening.
“Oh, right,” she said, smiling. “You pay attention really well, Tomioka-san. Usually, you’d ask me to stop talking by now.”
And then, barely, his lips moved. The corner of his mouth lifted. Just a little. So slight it might’ve been mistaken for a twitch, or a trick of the light. She was mostly sure it was because of the simmered salmon, but she hoped, even just a little bit, that this smile of his was because of her.
“Should I?” He mused.
Ah. It was because of her.
Shinobu only smiled and ate her salmon, continuing her story until their bowls were empty.
When it was time to go to their designated posts, she asked, “Tomioka-san, should we call each other by our first names?”
He looked at her as if she had grown a second head.
“You’re hurting my feelings, Tomioka-san. There shouldn’t be any problem with it, no? Tanjiro-kun calls you by your first name.”
He stood there for a long moment, brow barely furrowed.
“Hmm… maybe that’s a step too far. How about this?” Shinobu craned her head to the side, purple eyes shining brightly against the lantern lights. “Let’s be friends, Tomioka-san.”
He stared at her, unmoving, as if it were the most bizarre thing he’d heard. But it wasn’t. Was being friends with her so shocking for him?
A long breath left his nose. Not a sigh—he didn’t sigh. Just… breathe.
“Kochou,” he whispered, just enough for her to hear. “Are we not friends this whole time?”
She froze, the world narrowing to a pinpoint as her eyes widened—slowly, involuntarily—like windows pushed open by a sudden gust.
Friends. He considered her a friend.
The corners of her eyes crinkled in delight. “We are. That’s why you have to remember, friends rely on each other.” Her gaze fell to the stitches she made on his haori. “A while ago, back at the Hashira meeting, you said nothing, so I couldn’t defend you properly. It’s frustrating, Tomioka-san. When I try to understand you, it’s like you’re finding new ways to be misunderstood.”
He didn’t say a word, but she knew he listened.
“So, as your friend, I’d appreciate it if you tell me things, just like how I tell you things.”
They stood just outside the soba shop, where the warm scent of broth and buckwheat still lingered in the air, clinging faintly to their clothes. Behind them, the clatter of bowls and the murmur of late-night diners carried through the sliding door, muffled but constant—ordinary life continuing, unaware of the dangers of demons by night.
He had his hands lay limp to his sides, shoulders slightly hunched against the early autumn chill. The glow from the paper lantern overhead cast a soft, amber light along the sharp line of his jaw, but his eyes stayed lowered. It stayed on hers.
“Shinobu,” he said, finally. The words came rough around the edges, like they hadn’t been spoken aloud until now. “I can’t be as chatty as you.”
A smile blossomed on her face. Genuine and kind. Her name sounded just right from his mouth. “Giyuu-san,” she called, “you don’t have to cross a bridge that steep. A few sentences would do. I won’t pressure you.”
“I’ll try,” he promised. Then he looked at her. Not with apology, not with a plea, but with that rare, steady honesty of someone who didn’t often speak from the heart, but meant it fully when he did.
In this solemn view, Shinobu realized she just didn’t like Giyuu Tomioka.
She liked-liked him, as Mitsuri would call it.
It hit her—not like lightning nor like a sudden, sweeping wave, just like his breathing style. It was quieter than that. A shift, subtle and irreversible, like the moment dusk becomes night, and she wouldn’t realize it until the stars were already out.
She looked at him—really looked—and saw him not just as the man who walked slowly to match her pace, or the one who would send her herbal tea for her naturally pale complexion, or who carried her on his back without question, without a care for curious stares or shooting glances.
She saw the way his mouth tugged into that half-smile he probably didn’t know he did, and the way his eyes would stare deep into hers.
And that was when the thought came. Oh.
Not a question. Not a doubt. Just the clear, simple truth of it.
I love him.
She didn’t say it. Of course, she didn’t. Their circumstances were in a tight noose. They were both Hashiras.
Instead, she tucked her hands behind her back and smiled. “Okay. That’s a promise.”
She hoped he didn’t notice how her cheeks flushed red, nor how unsteady her breathing might’ve been.
Because her mind and heart did. And it wouldn’t be forgotten.