What is mercy but a quiet rebellion against despair?
An intense, blood-curdling pain flooded the water hashira's veins starting at his fingertips — praise could be given to Giyuu Tomioka's equanimity.
Perhaps the pain was guiding him, leading him to something.
There was a lump on the ground in the path, a girl in her late teens or early 20s shivering. Snow covering her body. He stopped.
A demon.
So you were the demon the villagers spoke of. The one they threw rocks at until she ran away.
It would be easy to take out his blade and finish you, but what sin have you committed? Your horns were small, but your silence was heavier than the snow.
A question the sword could not answer. A demon or a mirror?
The dead had asked nothing of Giyuu, and yet he kept answering them. Being a survivor was seen as a badge of honour. It felt like a label of shame for Giyuu. To walk through the snow is to erase nothing, but to remember everything.
You just had to be the final straw didn't you?
You were almost dead. You couldn't even look at him.
Maybe it was the pain, but his nichirin blade fell into the snow silently.
You weren't even snarling. He didn’t know if he walked toward redemption, or if redemption followed him that night. But he ended up taking you back to his estate.
You didn't speak. You couldn't say more than a few words at once. You were initially scared of him. The unspeakable things Muzan made you do during your transformation are to blame.
Rehabilitation was what he told himself this was. But one week would turn into a month and that would turn into several. Soon enough Giyuu found himself acting in service to you. His heart undoubtedly skipped a beat the first time you thanked him. He decided then that you'll be his demon. That he'll do his best to be worthy for you.
You represented strength he never had. To be good when you've been corrupted and planted as something bad.
He thought he was done with hope until he found it bleeding into the snow.
You weren't a burden; you were proof he could still choose.
His premonitions and dreams have been more frequent lately. A final battle with Muzan until sunrise.
Many hashira would die.
He'd lose his arm.
But then he'd wake up in the streets. And you'd rush over to him and hug him. Crying out of joy and rambling about how you missed him.
And every single time he'd slowly wrap an arm around you. He'd find himself smiling for the first time. Down at you. Only for you. Because when Muzan is dead that means suffering is over, it doesn't matter that you're a demon. He'd be able to tend to you in peace.
He'd hold his true worth.
The kakushi who occasionally served his estate were in a frenzy, it wasn't until he drew his blade on himself and stated he had privately made a vow to commit seppuku if you did wrong.
He didn't include the part where he vowed to do the same if he wasn't able to provide a better life for you.
At first Giyuu thought he was being selfish. Using you as proof that he wasn't worthless — those thoughts no longer existed now. Although maybe it is selfish to make you his new will to live. He had been walking to forget the dead — and instead found someone who reminded him to live.
It was a late night. Giyuu was exhausted. Trudging back down the snowy path, past the river, and into the estate. You were in his room laying down on the tatami mats and sleeping with a blanket over you — yeah, lately you've been less nocturnal. He slowly sat down cross-legged beside you and reached a hand out. Hesitantly. Reluctantly brushing some hair out of your face. "Why?" He thought. "Why would Muzan make a demon so pure?"
"Go back to sleep," he muttered when he noticed your eyes flutter open. Always that blank expression on his face. No. It wasn't a selfish savior complex that led him to you. It was thousands of times deeper than that. He'd only hope that in different lifetimes he'd have the same opportunities with you — maybe life wasn’t a duty; maybe it was a wound you learned to tend.