1.
Giyuu had no idea why he accepted this invite. It was after a hashira meeting, standard procedure, patrol changes, et cetera… but even so, Uzui still insisted they celebrate the fact they’re all gathered together (why was Uzui here? Wasn’t he retired—) and invited them all out to a bar not too far away (from the Ubuyashiki estate, ‘not too far away’ really means miles and miles of running.)
Kocho had all-but dragged him with the group, pestering him and annoying him. Miles and miles of her sing-song voice, sickly sweet and poisonous, jabbing at his arm insistently.
“Tomioka-san, there’s more to life than slaying demons! You don’t want to die without friends, do you? Hm? Tomioka-san! Tomioka-saan~!” She sang at him, leaning forward into his personal space. He couldn’t even ignore her, and that was the worst part. His sensitive hearing picked up every word she said.
Then Uzui joined in.
“C’mon, Tomioka! Kocho is perfectly right, y’know! You need to take a break from that unflashy lifestyle of yours; live life to the fullest!” Uzui put his one hand on his back, forcing him to walk with the group. While Kocho was verbally dragging him along, Uzui decided the more direct route of actually dragging him along. His haori, wine red and yellow-green in color, flutters in the wind behind him as he is led along with the hashira. Once they make it to the bar, however, is when Giyuu begins to intensely regret his decisions.
Standing outside, tied to a nearby fencepost, are two dogs. Immediately, Giyuu turns around and tries to bolt, thwarted by a large hand grabbing him by the collar. Damn Uzui and his stupid reflexes…
“Too late to run away now!”
Uzui starts dragging him back towards the bar, closer and closer to the damn dogs. Giyuu, hair standing on its end and eyes locked on to the ferocious furry beasts lurking outside of the door, latches on to Uzui’s muscly arm; almost curled into a ball, weighing him down. The cursed things were looking right at him. With murderousintent. The ravenette shivered, baring his teeth as menacing as he could muster with his human face.
Luckily, Shinazugawa went over to pet the dogs, who bounced up on his legs and used their paws to grab at his hands. The white-haired man huffed a laugh, seeming to resonate with the white-furred animals. Uzui walked into a private room with the rest of the hashira, shaking a quivering Giyuu off of his arm.
“Not a big fan of dogs, are ya?” The man chuckles, ruffling his already messy hair, and Giyuu has to resist the urge to bite him and leave the bar altogether. Iguro speaks up from across the table, a condescending (yet concerned?) look in his eyes.
“Hmm… a hashira afraid of dogs? Don’t you have better things to be worried about?” He speaks in that smooth, slithery tone, eyes dark underneath the warm yellow lighting hanging above the group. Kaburamaru flicks his tongue out at Giyuu, who this time bares his teeth and curls his arms around his legs. Iguro blinks, taken aback at the other man’s behavior.
It’s impolite to sit this way, Giyuu thinks, with his head on top of his knees and arms tightly wound around himself, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the damned dogs. What if they came running in here? (They can’t, they’re tied up.) Or what if they’re trying to murder him specifically!? (They aren’t, they’re just lonely.)
He doesn’t wanna drink anyway, he loses control too easily that way. No matter how many drinks a tipsy Uzui passes his way, or how an also-sober Kocho tries to get him to have a little fun. He feels sick, rocking back and forth as he continues overthinking. The amicable interactions between the other hashira make him feel even worse, if he wasn’t going to participate then why did he even come…
Eventually, however, it is time to leave the bar. Uzui is absolutely plastered, though he is doing an excellent job of hiding it, Kanroji is quite tipsy; her iron stomach playing in her favor, Kocho barely drank at all, having snuck herself some alcohol, though her restrained attitude is significantly loosened, he can tell by the casual way she tells Iguro to, quote, “Stop pussying around and say something nice to him for once, you slithering moron.”
Iguro is also quite drunk himself, also evidenced by the weak shove he gives the petite woman. Whoever ‘him’ is must certainly be lucky… or unlucky? Giyuu doesn’t really know. He doesn’t have any idea what Kocho means when she says anything, most of the time. Shinazugawa is leaning against Gyomei, who abstained from drinking the whole night, with his eyes closed and arms crossed.
The eight hashira walk out of the private room Uzui rented, the flamboyant man making an easy farewell with the other patrons around the main room, with Giyuu following close behind them. He shouldn’t even be walking next to them, much less join them in their amicable conversation.
He can see Iguro and Kocho still bickering, and the short woman must’ve said something that really set off the serpent pillar, who’s flushed face turned even brighter as he slurred out something in defense.
Iguro turned to look at him, the visible part of his expression furrowed with… determination? His heterochromatic eyes held a blazing fire as he stormed over towards Giyuu, who had been watching him intently the entire time, Kocho giggling at him from behind her hand.
The serpent breather blindly reaches out for Giyuu’s hand, gripping it as tight as he could. Which, admittedly, wasn’t that hard. The ravenette tilts his head in confusion, letting himself be led over to Kocho. Iguro huffs, chest puffed out, even Kaburamaru sitting proudly atop his master’s shoulders, akin to a king on top of the highest hill.
“See? I can be near him without immediately running away!” The dark-haired serpent hashira proclaimed, tilting his head up proudly. Kocho just hums, glancing down at their hands, Iguro’s smaller hand gripping on to Giyuu’s wrist, the water breather’s hand just hanging limply.
“Hm. We’ll see.” She spins on her heel, turning towards the door, walking out with Kanroji bounding up next to her, braids bouncing as she easily falls into step with the smaller woman. Iguro’s eyes just narrow at her, but eventually he just huffs and follows behind the two girls, dragging a stumbling Giyuu with him.
They reach the exit door, swinging it open with a soft bell chime.
Woof! Woof!
Giyuu jumps nearly a foot in the air, hair standing on its end, cowering behind Iguro as best as he could. The dogs were still here. “Stupid bastards…” he mutters, glaring at the accursed beasts while they pant and bark excitedly at Shinazugawa and another bar patron, likely the owner as he is the one holding onto their leashes. Iguro cranes his head to look at the cowering man, short brows furrowed in confusion.
“Tomioka?” Giyuu shushes him, free hand clasping over the bandages covering Iguro’s mouth. As long as they stayed quiet, the dogs wouldn’t come closer…
The two white, fluffy dogs suddenly turn at the brief sound of the serpent hashira’s voice, bounding over with their stupid tails wagging. They jump up at the two men, and Giyuu honest to god squeaks, jumping back. Shinazugawa, Kocho, Kanroji, and Iguro are staring at him, vexed by his strange behavior.
Please don’t come closer please don’t come closer please don’t—
One of the dogs jumps up on him, and he yells and transforms in a shower of frosty-golden glitter, leaving behind a meter long black and blue kitsune, nine large fluffy tails puffed out, hoshi no tama clutched in his teeth.
The four other hashira gasp, unsure if what they’re seeing is real, even the dogs flinching back in shock. Before any of them can get a closer look, though, the black kitsune bolts like lightning, gone with barely a puff of dust and fading sparkles.
—
2.
Mitsuri is very stubborn when she needs to be.
She’s been trying very, very hard to help Tomioka socialize more with the others! Shinobu-chan helped a lot, and she liked talking to him, as much as an airhead he could be, and gave her some awesome advice!
Apparently, he spent a lot of time alone in his empty estate. How, perchance, did she know it was empty? Shinobu-chan would go into the Waterfall Estate to pester Tomioka about his treatments, so she knew the ins and outs of most of the rooms! Ahh, so helpful…
Even though Mitsuri is older than Shinobu-chan, she still feels like a little kid around her! Besides, she’s so cute when she’s focused on her work! And she’s so kind and helps her a lot…
But she’s getting off track!
Currently, the pink haired woman is standing outside of Tomioka’s estate with a determined smile on her face and a tall, quiet giant standing next to her. In her hands she carries a picnic basket filled to the brim with sweets. Sakura mochi, mostly. The girl giggles internally, ready to share her favorite food with someone new. Though, she does have some fried tofu and salmon for something milder, just in case. Mitsuri sighs, but her ambition doesn’t waver. Whenever Mitsuri tried to enter the estate on her own, Tomioka would either avoid her or try to get her to go away, but since he respected Himejima-san so much, maybe he’d let them both in for at least tea this time!
She knocks on the door with a little tune, bouncing on her heels. This plan would work! Besides, if she really needed to, she could just waltz in anyway! But her mother taught her to be polite, and she tries to set a good example for her little brother, so she just waits.
After a few minutes, Mitsuri is about to knock again, hand raised up to the door, when it slides open to reveal Tomioka-san. Though, he looks a little different. His hair is down, the underside of it a bright white color, and his pupils are a little… sharper. But in a second it’s gone, and he looks normal again. Mitsuri brushes it off for now, in favor of saying hello.
“Hi, Tomioka-san! It’s quite a beautiful day out and I brought some sweets, as well as Himejima-san. Do you wanna eat with us?”
The ravenette peeks out from behind the door, staring up at the tall, blind man towering over the two.
“Namu namu…” The man mutters in his deep voice, and Tomioka just sighs, nodding, retreating back into his estate.. Mitsuri squeals, turning to Himejima-san.
“He said yes, Himejima-san! Tomioka-san, do you have a spot we can eat at?” Her smile widens, one hand on Himejima’s arm to guide him gently through the estate, toeing off their sandals and following behind Tomioka. Himejima ducks through the door, appreciating Kanroji’s attempts to help guide him; it’s not necessary, but welcome nonetheless.
“There’s a well-kept spot in the yard, it should be big enough.” The raven haired man walks through the estate towards the backyard of the property, showing them towards the back door. When he slides it open, it reveals a large training ground and a fairly kept garden. The flowers are a tad wilted, and the grass is patchy and yellowed; but something about its messy neatness brings Mitsuri a sweet nostalgia of her own home.
While she’s busy admiring the simplicity of Tomioka’s home, he speaks up again, “I’ll bring out a blanket.”
It’s only then that she realized she forgot to bring one of her own. Mitsuri blushes, embarrassed and guilty at the prospect of ruining one of Tomioka’s blankets by sitting on it in the dirt.
“I-I’m so sorry, Tomioka-san! I totally forgot to bring my own…” She sheepishly apologizes, leaning forward in a bow. When she picks her head back up, she’s met again with that scary, yet attractive, impassive gaze. But he seems a bit more… pinched, this time. His lips are pursed and he squints weirdly.
“Don’t apologize, it’s no bother.” He ducks through the door, leaving her and Himejima behind. Mitsuri sighs, a bit ashamed at her hubris. The tall stone pillar comes up and puts a gentle hand on her back, silently reassuring her.
Himejima had always been the rock of the hashira’s confined group, ironically enough. She appreciated him a lot. A small smile appears on her face, and Himejima must sense her happiness too, because one of his own appears on his face. After a few minutes of waiting, the happy sun high in the cloudless sky, Tomioka comes back through the door, opening it with a soft sshhck.
In his hands he carries a blanket, light blue and a bit ratty. Mitsuri feels a bit less bad about using this one to sit comfortably on the ground; it’s dirty and clearly very old and used. The three hashira walk out to the sunny garden, but the pink-haired girl can’t help but feel like something is off.
Earlier, when Tomioka had the white hair and weird catlike pupils, he looked a little… demonic, but kinder. Kind of like sweet little Nezuko-chan! And then there was that time at the bar with the rest of the group… She wasn’t sure if she was drunker than she thought, or if it really happened, but seeing Tomioka-san turn into that little fox was very jarring…
Wait… that little fox, the black and blue one with the cute white underbelly… had it had nine tails?
After setting down the basket and sitting carefully with Himejima and Tomioka, Mitsuri thought carefully. She didn’t even take any of her mochis… But this was important! She crossed her arms, one hand on her chin, as she tried to remember…
Tomioka with Iguro, the dogs scaring him, and Tomioka turning into a fox… She’d heard of similar stories, of foxes with fears of dogs and white pearls kept in their tails or in their mouths, of foxes with one too many tails and mischief in their eyes…
Could Tomioka-san be a kitsune!?
To avoid suspicion, Mitsuri reached into the basket to take out one of her mochis, glancing over at Tomioka-san. At first, nothing was amiss… but then she noticed it. His shadow.
His shadow wasn’t form fitting to his body, shaped with triangular ears on top of its head and large, fluffy tails placed next to each other like a waving fan. Tomioka-san didn’t have the overpowering aura of a shinto kami, just this… quiet aura that radiated like fallen autumn leaves onto a still pond.
Mitsuri hummed from where she slowly and carefully chewed around her mochi, resolving herself to at least ask. At worst, Tomioka-san would think of her as ridiculously stupid, but it was better late than never.
“…Tomioka-san?” She could see his blue eyes turn to her, subtly avoiding eye contact. She cleared her throat quietly, his expression asking a silent, ‘what?.’ Mitsuri opened her mouth, feigning confidence in herself, “Are you a kitsune?”
Mitsuri watched as he dropped his chopsticks, and Himejima’s eyes widened slightly in shock, and Tomioka didn’t look much better, speaking a bit fearfully, “Wh— what are you saying?”
The girl panicked, trying to fix the situation as fast as possible, “I-it’s just-! When we went to that bar a few weeks ago, remember? You got so scared of the dogs—“ Tomioka shivered at just the mention, jaw set hardly in place, “that you turned into a little fox!”
Tomioka was silent for a few moments, deep blue eyes downcast towards the ground, chewing idly on his mochi. Himejima rubbed his palms together, beads clicking against each other in a soothing rhythm.
“Tomioka.” The respective man looks up at the tall stone pillar, humming in acknowledgement, “Ever since you became a hashira, I’ve noticed something different about you. Something different from the rest of us.”
Tomioka opens his mouth to speak, but Himejima continues on.
“Your aura has been different, spiritually, at least. I have held an even greater respect for you because of it. If you are what Kanroji thinks you are, nothing will change.” Himejima nods his head for emphasis, palms pressed against each other. Mitsuri watched, silent, as Tomioka pondered on the wise pillar’s words, the ravenette sighing deeply.
“I am not a kitsune. You must’ve mistaken.” He speaks, calm and articulate, peeling apart the mochi in his hands; a nervous tick, perhaps. Mitsuri hums, turning her gaze back down to the ground. His voice was so clear, and it was hard to tell if he was lying. But perhaps she was a little bit more drunk than she thought, and Himejima definitely didn’t see Tomioka transform.
But she knew a few others who did.
An hour or two after her and Himejima arrived at the Waterfall Estate, the evening sun setting along the horizon, they wave goodbye to Tomioka and his empty home, going their separate ways. Mitsuri calls down Urara, the loyal and fashionable crow sitting on her shoulder whilst the pink haired girl relays a message to Shinobu-chan.
–
3.
Giyuu winced as he lit a fire, muscles twinging as he struck flint together over the dry kindling, eventually the surrounding wood catching alight. Iguro laid close to the flickering flame, bleeding from his shoulder, head laying back on the blue-eyed kitsune’s folded haori; choppy black hair splayed out beneath him, wide bi-colored eyes tracking his movements with a critical look.
The two men had been sent to a town troubled by demon attacks, and enough low ranked slayers had been killed to call for hashira intervention. Apparently, a whole nest of demons had been working together underneath the strongest one’s blood demon art, a type of mind control/hypnosis that’d been terrible to deal with.
For some reason, halfway through the fight, Iguro had shoved him out of the way to take a hit from one of the demons, its nasty claws tearing through his haori and uniform to scratch a jagged line through his shoulder, chest, and partly to his abdomen. Luckily it wasn’t too deep, just appearing bad because of the amount of blood, and Giyuu could wait until Iguro had gotten some rest and been bandaged before taking him to Kocho’s estate.
Speaking of bandaging, Giyuu had to do so as fast as possible now that the fire had started. It was still dark, the cold air chilling the two hashira down to their bones; Iguro especially. The shorter man had a thinner stature, and didn’t have any fur hidden underneath his uniform. The ravenette could use some of his spiritual energy to help heal the man, but Iguro was still far too awake for it to stay hidden.
Oyakata-sama and the rest of the Ubuyashiki family knew, of course, and that was still way too many humans let in on his secret. He didn’t want to share it with Iguro especially, knowing how much the man disliked him.
The snake pillar's disdain was made known by the way he flinched back, face flushing with anger, when Giyuu started parting his blood-soaked haori and unbuttoning his stained uniform to bandage his wound. The kitsune took out his small first aid kit, grabbing some gauze and medical tape, even going as far as to grab the needle and thread from inside the box. Kocho had taught him how to suture wounds, figuring that “if you’re going to try and heal on your own, you may as well know the proper way to do it.”
She was like a little sister, in that way. Wishing for his safety, showing how she cared with such gestures, but still aggressive and teasing in her own way. She and Giyuu had their own way of speaking to each other, and even though he hated getting close to anyone, especially those with mortal constitution, he still couldn’t help succumbing to Kocho’s efforts.
“Iguro, I’m going to start stitching your wound closed now.” He warned the serpent pillar, whose eyes were beginning to droop, “Don’t fall asleep just yet.”
The wounded man just scoffed, and then hissed in pain as the first stitch went through. Kaburamaru comforted his master from where he sat coiled on his arm, scaly white body rippling with worry. Iguro stifled his noises of pain, and Giyuu felt a seed of guilt grow in his stomach. They were almost done, only a few more stitches necessary.
Obanai looked up at the taller man through squinted eyes, the void of unconsciousness taking him slowly. His chest pulsed with dull agony as Tomioka tied the final stitch, covering it with tape and gauze as best as he could, then buttoning his lavender-tinted uniform back up, covering him with his haori as best as possible.
The snake pillar shivered at the warmth of Tomioka’s hands brushing against his cool chest, mumbling incoherently. The cold bit at his nose, Kaburamaru long left to curl up with the taller ravenette so as to not go comatose from the cold night air, and he felt his own body slowing down at the temperature. The fire helped a bit, but Obanai could only watch blearily while Tomioka re-packaged his medkit, setting it down and standing up.
For a second, he swears on his life that he sees the man transform, silver and gold flickering in the orange flames; but then his aching and tired head is set on top of what feels like a living cloud, warm and inviting. His eyes begin to close unwillingly, a humming sound like a soft spell putting him to a dreamless sleep.
“...Tomioka?” He mumbles, the edges of his vision turned black and fuzzy.
A calloused hand sets in his hair, rough palms tenderly brushing his choppy black hair from his sweaty forehead, and the last thing he sees before sleep claims him is a blue eyed man with a fluffy black nose and strange markings, a soft blue glow enveloping them both.
The next time he awakes, laying on a cot alone in the Butterfly Estate, his chest doesn’t hurt anymore, Tomioka is gone, and two women with distantly mischievous looks on their faces open the door to his room.
–
4.
Tengen didn’t care for Tomioka much outside of his hard work and skill. The unflashy, unflamboyant, un… something… he really needs to find another synonym for flashy that starts with F. But that’s besides the point, adjectives or not, Tomioka was just too glum and gray. Beautiful eyes though, he had to say!
Despite being so silent, like an immovable pond or undisturbed puddle, Tomioka never fails to make his presence known. Always in your peripheral vision, his silence somehow speaking more than the occasional sassy comment, the haori that Tengen didn’t know if he liked or not, that… stifling aura of power that none of the other hashira had. Not even Himejima, the best demon slayer among the corps.
As well as all these things, it was the sound of Tomioka that stood out the most. To him and his flashy hearing, anyway. He knew that yellow kid felt something similar, the usually screeching boy having quieted down to tell Tengen about the odd sound coming from Tomioka.
Tengen almost didn’t notice it before, always falling into the background, but now that he knew it existed he couldn’t escape it. Tomioka had the sound of a rushing river, the sound of bells chiming in the background, the sound of an unstoppable force of nature. Tomioka sounded like a tsunami, insurmountable and destructive. He sounded like healing, like the sound of hundreds of people coming together to repair the aftermath of a natural disaster.
So no matter how much he tried to act like a motionless puddle, or maybe even a small stream, there was always a silent tsunami, the turmoil of a rushing river, hidden beneath his skin and broiling inside of his mind.
But what does Tengen know? He hasn’t talked to the guy nearly… ever. Like, not when it was just the two of them. Like it is right now.
The ravenette sits a fair distance away, still beside him, hunched over and curled up, knees brought up to his chest. In comparison, Tengen sits proud; leaning back on his futon with his hand (and non-hand) behind his head, legs splayed out in front of him. The two men had somehow wound up sharing a temporary room in Tengen’s estate. Tomioka needed a place to stay on a way to a mission, having taken up the other man’s previous patrol area. His wives (or just Hinatsuru, rather) had told him to ‘talk to Tomioka-sama more, you never know what kind of friendships you can make.’ And because Tengen loves his wives so much, and also because he’s kind of curious about Tomioka, and also because he got kicked out of their bedroom, he cooperates.
It’s late night, the dark night sky hidden by the shoji doors. Tengen’s yukata is loose, hair let down from its flashily styled ponytail, and he’s ready to get some sleep before getting back to his mission. He glances back towards Tomioka, the man’s unflashy black ponytail also undone, yukata tied tightly and modestly, and he’s fiddling with something in his hands.
The taller man leans forward to get a better look, blinking his plum-colored eye at the sight of… a white gemstone. Perfectly round, bright white and reflective like a rainbow, and easily fitting in the palm of Tomioka’s hand. For a moment, Tengen is brought with the instinctual will to grab the thing and withhold it, if not to get a closer look.
But then he blinks, willing that feeling away, instead making himself known to Tomioka by getting up and leaning forward. The ravenette glances up at him, clenching the large gemstone so tight his knuckles turn white.
“Do you need something, Uzui?” He grits through his teeth, deep blue eyes squinted suspiciously. The white-haired man raises his arms in defense, smirking slightly.
“Nah, of course not, I’m just looking at your… whatever-that-is.” He gestures vaguely to the white ball-gemstone, eye shining curiously.
“…It’s a hoshi no tama. Don’t worry about it.” Tomioka turns his gaze back down, shifting his knees down to bring the thing to his chest, both hands holding it up to his heart. Hoshi no tama? Like the folklore thing? Which animal was it again… the— the foxes? Kitsune, was it? Why would Tomioka have something like a hoshi no tama? Kitsune use them to store their powers, and they die if they don’t have it anymore. Did he steal one from a kitsune—? Tengen hummed in consideration, brows slightly furrowed. He supposed it wasn’t much to worry about, anyway. Tomioka was a strange guy, it wouldn’t be out of character if this was a moment of oddity, no matter how vexing the situation was.
“Never said I was worried, I think it’s pretty flashy.” Tengen grinned, watching Tomioka’s face turn red from embarrassment. Iguro would kill him if they saw them together, probably. The shortstack needs to relax, sometimes.
The ravenette just hums in response, laying on his side facing away from Tengen, curled up under his provided futon in a tight ball. The other man’s grin dims, but he doesn’t let it get to him. It’s time for bed, anyway. He gets up to turn out the last light, settling back down into his futon and almost immediately falling into a (hopefully) dreamless sleep.
—
5.
Kids need to stop latching onto him all the time. Like, literally latching on. On missions, they grab onto his legs and hands, crying and thanking him. During his patrol, the kids recognize him and come bounding up, trying to get him to play. He’s surprised they haven’t given up yet, considering he’d just ignore them and keep walking, even as they hung onto his arms and their small fingers clutched his haori.
Giyuu didn’t know why they liked him so much. A kitsune’s powers didn’t extend to ‘making children like you a lot,’ mostly just things like healing, shapeshifting, et cetera et cetera. A lot of the time he had to deal with… well, they’re not brats… just… tiring.
The triplets at the Butterfly Estate, the boar kid, the blonde one, that one with the mohawk… who already had a brother, one who hated him, no less. Kanao, who had always been a silent presence by his side whenever he visited Kocho’s mansion. He felt a certain kinship with her, but where she was sakura petals floating on a still lake, he was a rolling river, turmoil hidden beneath a stoic facade. He still appreciated Kanao dearly, and wished her nothing but safety.
Then there was Nezuko, Tanjiro, and Muichiro.
Ever since Nezuko had regained her ability to speak, as detailed by a letter from Tanjiro, she has been much more awake and aware of her surroundings. In the same letter, Tanjiro had said he would be… passing by the Water Estate soon. With Muichiro… and Genya, and Inosuke, and Zenitsu, and Kanao, and Nezuko, and oh my god there were so many people on his doorstep—
As the ravenette stood there, stunned, each respective teenager filed in through his door, toeing off their sandals and smiling. Except for the mohawk one, Genya, Shinazugawa’s little brother, who is shifting nervously with an anxious gaze. He’s the last one in, just behind Kanao and Muichiro, carrying a stack of origami paper. He lags behind, nervously glancing between the floor and Giyuu, shuffling his feet nervously.
“Tomioka-sama… Tanjiro told me how skilled you are with Water Breathing and— and I was hoping that you could teach me some of your movements… even if I can’t do any breathing styles— but Himejima-sensei taught me repetitive action, so I can do just as well—” The boy thumbed the edges of the origami paper, voice trailing quieter at Giyuu’s continued silence, until the man interrupts his nervous rambling.
“…We’ll see.” The ravenette sighed out, noticing the boy’s surprise, walking towards where the group of kids had gone, the noise of gathered teenagers flooding his usually silent estate, Genya following behind him. Even though the boy couldn’t use breathing styles, opting for eating demons and shooting guns instead, as detailed in a letter sent to him by Tanjiro, it’d be good to learn the basics of the movements. Expanding knowledge, even primitive, is a good idea. He’d be unable to take the boy on as a tsuguko, but… he thinks he might be okay with that. Shinazugawa would tear his head off if he did, anyway.
Once they made it back to the group, politely sat around Giyuu’s low table on top of the soft navy cushions, conversing excitedly. Even Kanao was pitching in to the conversation, the topic of sword fighting and missions coming up easily. Her eyes seemed a little brighter than the last time he saw her. Once he and Genya entered the room, eyes locked on to them.
“Genya! We were waiting for you! C’mon, put the paper down—“ Tanjiro gets up, tugging on Genya’s arm to sit next to him, Muichiro, and Inosuke. Genya sits in between Tanjiro and Inosuke, with Zenitsu next to the unmasked boy bickering with him, Kanao sitting beside Muichiro to avoid the worst of the noise. Nezuko is next to Zenitsu, drooping sleepily.
The entire side of the table is full, so Giyuu sits across from the group, right in the middle of his side. It’s easier to watch them like this, anyway. He watches Genya set down the papers, Tanjiro passing them out to everyone, giving a sheet to Giyuu. The ravenette is a bit curious about the choice of origami, and the boy seems to sense this (or probably smelling it, knowing him) and speaks up over the others, who have quieted majorly now that they’re doing their own origami.
“Sorry for the trouble, Giyuu-san… originally, it was going to be only me and Muichiro, but then Inosuke and Zenitsu tagged along… and then Kanao asked to come… and I decided Genya should come too, and I obviously had to bring Nezuko, so… it got a little out of hand, ha…” The boy sheepishly scratches his head, a small wobbly smile on his face. Giyuu sighed, unsurprised at the circumstances. Tanjiro has always been too kind, but…
“It’s quite alright, I… appreciate the company. It gets lonely here.” Giyuu admits softly, unable to bring himself to lie about such a thing to someone he’s grown to see as a little brother. He was beginning to remind himself of Tsutako, always kind and gentle… it was like she was possessing him to care for all of the kits wandering past his Estate. Tanjiro’s smile widens significantly, and it’s like the sun is beaming at him full force.
“I’m so happy to hear that, Giyuu-san! Oh— Muichiro?” The long-haired boy slumps over on Tanjiro’s shoulder, eyes bright as he folds a paper airplane. He’d been much happier lately, Giyuu noticed. Less forgetful, too. Kocho had told him of Muichiro’s improvement in memory tests and examinations, and it made his weak, sensitive heart swell with pride.
Giyuu watches the rest of the teens do their respective projects, Nezuko fast asleep on the table, a few jumping frogs surrounding her head, whilst Zenitsu tries to make… err… whatever that is… Giyuu grimaces at the folded mess in the blonde boy’s calloused hands, not looking much better than Inosuke’s ripped up piece of paper. The ravenette frowns at the display, cobalt eyes shifting over to Kanao, who’s easily forming small paper cranes and a butterfly. Genya was trying to copy Tanjiro and Muichiro, the three making paper airplanes with varying degrees of quality.
“Stupid boar! Don’t rip up your paper like that!” He hears to his left, glancing over to see Inosuke ripping up a second piece of paper, laughing hoarsely; a large smile on his girly face.
“Yours looks like shit! It isn’t even eatable!” Inosuke loudly retorts, and Giyuu is immediately worried because… is the kid eating the paper? Should he go over and stop them?
“Eatable isn’t even a word you moron! It’s edible!” Giyuu sighs again, deciding to just ignore them until it gets serious. By Tanjiro’s non-reaction, this must happen often. Genya is silent, tongue sticking out and brows furrowed as he folds the relatively simple airplane. It turns out a bit too square and crumpled, but it’s shaped correctly. Tanjiro’s looks good, same as Muichiro’s, and the three resolve to try tossing them outside later. Kanao is still silently folding paper cranes, seeming okay with the background noise, expression shifting to slightly confused and mirthful whenever Inosuke and Zenitsu get particularly… argumentative. She glances over at Giyuu, the gears in her brain turning as she makes a decision. The girl clears her throat, pointing hesitantly at Giyuu’s unfolded paper.
“Tomioka-san, aren’t you going to make something?” Her voice sings, melodious like her adopted older sister’s, a bit curious at the edges of its monotony. The ravenette hums. He only knows how to do one, quite ironic, origami shape. Well, two, since he likes to think he can whip up a relatively good paper crane.
He nods, hands reaching for the light blue sheet of paper set before him. Kanao’s hands still, curiosity having caught the cat. Tanjiro peeks curiously at him as he folds the paper, careful and precise, yet still quick and efficient. He’s been taught his before by his sister, having done it a million times over his very, very long lifetime.
After a few minutes, he holds a folded kitsune in his hand, multiple tails and all. He feels quite proud of himself, the others in the room oohing at his creation. A chorus of ‘can you teach me?’ and the forceful ‘teach me!’ from Inosuke urges him to grab more paper and repeat the process, a soft smile forming on his face as he directs each of them separately on how to correctly fold and shape the kitsune.
Night falls on the Waterfall Estate, and nobody ends up going home. Giyuu keeps many, many extra futons in the other rooms, deciding them to be kept just in case the real Water Hashira may want/need them. Tanjiro, Nezuko, Kanao and Muichiro end up in one bedroom, Genya, Inosuke, and Zenitsu in another. Giyuu sleeps on his own, but when he wakes up that morning in half fox form, surrounded by futons and children piled on top of him, he thinks that this is what peace feels like.
—
+1
He’s in a bar again, in a private room, with all the hashira (sans Muichiro,) no dogs this time. Giyuu has been feeling much more open lately, to the surprise of the hashira, and is ready to try and make an attempt to… ‘put himself out there.’ Or something.
Uzui plops down next to him, body language open and inviting, Iguro on the other side of Giyuu, glaring daggers at the sound hashira. Kocho giggles at him from far away as he’s passed a small cup of sake, grimacing before downing it in one go, the sour burn of expensive alcohol slipping down his throat.
This is such… a bad idea…
But then Uzui is passing him more sake, and he doesn’t have much more to care about because fuck he is tired and maybe getting drunk will help him through this. It doesn’t even occur to him what kind of drunk he gets when he does decide to indulge in a drink, which has been very few times over his hundreds of years alive. The more his mind fuzzes over and his face gets warm and tingly, the more compliant and lethargic he gets, sadness crawling the edges of his mind. But he doesn’t let it consume him yet, even though the tingling is getting worse and his focus lessens. He will not let his burdens ruin the gathering.
Kanroji and Kocho are talking excitedly about god knows what, Uzui is conversing with Himejima about sword techniques, Iguro is next to him with Shinazugawa, the two men telling stories about their recent missions. Giyuu leans his head on his arms, resting over the low table with his eyes half closed. His body feels slow and lethargic, and he chuffs quietly in silent annoyance, ear flicking away a stray fly. his nine fluffy tails feel like a comfortable silk pillow, appearing through the fabric of the kimono he’d been told specifically to wear, everyone else dressed similarly comfortable. The only kimono he’d actually owned was a severely fancy one, white in color, silken and soft with golden and blue flower patterns covering the bottom and sleeves. It was what he wore in kitsune form, most usually, and it was quite modest except for a low dip around his nape. Kitsune were known for their more sultry appearances and trickery, but Giyuu had always been different from the rest of his kind.
Through the haze in his mind, he realized the background noise around him had faded into near silence, the only sound being the noise of patrons outside their private room. Giyuu hummed quietly, yawning sleepily as he opened his eyes, blinking as he took in his surroundings. Ugh… the lights were so bright…
Suddenly, he felt an intense tug on his ears, pulling him out of his seat, and a tight grip on his hair. Giyuu groaned in pain, the thin skin and fur making up his large fox ears were sensitive, and he reached up to swat away the large hand on his head.
“Shinazugawa-san-! Wait—!” He hears a high pitched voice above him, Kanroji rushing up to the white haired man covered in scars that was shoving him to the floor, katana unsheathed, tackling him away from the kitsune.
”Kanroji, are you serious!? Are you defending a demon right now!?” The man struggles to get her off of him, the woman’s face puffed out and red, pouting in anger. Uzui watches from afar, realization dawning heavily on his face. Himejima seems curious at the commotion, but unsurprised entirely. Iguro has a similar expression to Uzui, though a lot more flustered and angry. Kocho is wearing pure surprise on her alcohol-flushed face, one petite hand covering her face.
“He’s not a demon! Just calm down, okay!?” She squeaks, putting all her strength into weighing down Shinazugawa. Giyuu’s fur is all puffed out, like a massive, moving cloud of hair, and he scurries back, knocking into the wall. Uzui walks over to the commotion, curiously eyeing Giyuu.
”Dude, Shinazugawa, seriously—“ He starts, but is quickly cut off by a raging Shinazugawa.
“Don’t try to tell me to calm down! I know what I saw last time was real, no fucking way you morons didn’t notice sooner—“ The scarred man doesn’t let up, veins bulging around his face and eyes nearly popping out of his sockets, struggling in Kanroji’s grip. Iguro looks constipated, honestly, his visible features twisted oddly.
“I did notice! Kind of… Listen dude, just be civil. Let Tomioka explain himself.” Uzui tries again to placate Shinazugawa, and it seems to be more effective when he knows he’s not getting anywhere with Kanroji on top of him.
“Fine. But if his excuse isn’t good enough, I swear to god—“
“Shinazugawa,” A sweet voice speaks up, Kocho having sauntered over to inspect the situation clearer, “Quiet down. Now.”
The man actually seems to relent in the face of her anger, not wanting to mess with the woman who stitches him back together, “Tch, fine. Just get off me.”
Kanroji huffs, a deep pout set on her face as she stands, releasing Shinazugawa; the wind breather stands, sheathing his sword and glaring daggers at a nervous Giyuu. Each hashira turns to him, and he stands up himself. Brushing off his kimono and smoothing out his puffy tails, he sighs. The commotion had sobered him up a bit, and he waited for the questions. Kanroji came first, brows furrowed deeply.
“You were a kitsune this whole time!? You lied to me? To us?” She seems very upset, eyes wet with unshed tears. Giyuu feels a seed of guilt pool in his stomach at the sight. Kanroji was always kind to him, and he hadn’t been so in return.
“I-… I’m sorry. I wasn’t planning on telling you all.” He shuffles nervously, black, fuzzy nose twitching as he sniffed. His ears were flat to his head, and his tails were low to the ground.
“So… you were a kitsune this whole time…? With nine tails? How old are you?” Uzui speaks up, lingering confusion evident in his tone, arms crossed over his wide chest. Giyuu snickers a bit internally, face and voice a flat deadpan.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a kitsune their age?” He smirks slightly when Uzui scoffs, rolling his eye and going silent. Himejima mutters a small prayer, rubbing his palms together, entirely unsurprised.
“What’s up with you, Himejima? You’re quieter than usual.” Shinazugawa glances at the stone hashira, eyes lingering on Giyuu, hand still on the hilt of his sword.
“…I fear I may have known about Tomioka’s situation this entire time, though without realizing it. While I am more spiritually inclined, I cannot entirely decipher divinity and magic. When Tomioka lied about being a kitsune to Kanroji and I, my assumptions had no basis.” The silent giant speaks up, blind eyes shut tight, tears lingering at the edge of his lashes.
“Tch… fuck this.” Shinazugawa rolls his eyes, “I’m goin’ home.”
The wind breather turns on his heel, stomping out the door of the room and exiting the bar. Giyuu’s ears perk up to hear the ringing of the bell that hangs over the main door, long tufts of fur waving with the motion.
”…Anyways. Why decide to reveal yourself now?” Iguro speaks up for the first time, face back to normal. Kaburamaru flicks his tongue, and the serpent breather squints a weak glare in his direction. Giyuu groans quietly, embarrassed. Uzui, with his stupid hearing, picks up on this, a stupid smirk on his face. The kitsune sighs, dragging his palm over his face in an uncharacteristic show of exasperation.
“…I got too drunk and was careless. It was entirely accidental.” Giyuu grits out through his sharp teeth, fox-nose wrinkling. Uzui just laughs at him, same with Kanroji and Kocho. Iguro snickers quietly, bringing his haori-covered hand to his mirthful face. Yeah, laugh it up… You try brushing nine tails every day. Kanroji’s giggling shifts to something more thoughtful and curious, and she’s been dying to ask;
“Can I pet you? Your tails just look so… fluffy! And do you have any powers like in the folk tales!?” The girl is much more eager now, and she leans both her hands forward to touch Giyuu’s multitude of tails, which he ever so graciously allows, hearing her coo at the soft fur.
“I have shape-shifting, as is standard, and some healing powers. I can do other stuff, but that isn’t as important.” He remarks, recalling the time he most recently used his abilities to heal and nurture Iguro. The man had been quite compliant, surprisingly.
For a while, the group asks Giyuu about his shapeshifting. More specifically Uzui, who asks him if he can copy him, which Giyuu indulges in the platinum haired man’s request. Shifting in a shower of glitter, he becomes an exact copy of the sound hashira, but doesn’t make an effort to copy the man’s personality. For a while, the man tries to urge him into a ‘flashy pose’ and expression, but it’s mostly unsuccessful, with Giyuu swapping between many, many forms. (A snake at the request of Kanroji and Kaburmaru ((somehow)), his fox form by Iguro, his ‘flashiest’ form, an entire book on different animals, and even… a rock. By Himejima, of course.)
By the time he’s done all his transformations, Giyuu is entirely sapped of his spiritual energy. He decides to wait on his regeneration, turning into his true form as a regular fox with nine tails, hoshi no tama clutched in his teeth. The group of hashira disband, and Giyuu scampers home as quick as possible, leaving with new worries and new friends.