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Hopefully, this will be the last mission we’re ever sent on, Giyu thinks as he and Obanai rush through countryside. The stars are out tonight, twinkling and bright. Giyu can’t help but look up every once in a while. It’s a habit that he’s gotten into, he supposes, because he never really appreciated them before.
It’s been almost one year—eleven months—since the final battle.
The memory of that night still sits heavy in Giyu’s chest. Six pillars gone, and too many other slayers to count. He feels sick simply thinking about it. They didn’t deserve that—of course they didn’t. He’s gone over it a hundred different ways, turning it over and over in his head. So why does he keep repeating that statement? They didn’t deserve it. And I don’t deserve this…
Giyu sighs, trying to throw off a sense of guilt he can’t seem to shake. Maybe it’s the silence that makes it worse. Since the war ended, life has been quieter—emptier. No orders from the Corps, no demons lurking in the shadows, no reason to draw his blade. The stillness should feel like peace; instead, it feels like the world’s holding its breath.
Well, until now.
Yesterday, Giyu and Obanai received a Kasugai Crow telling them of suspicious activity in a nearby village. Apparently, a monster of some sort has been linked to the disappearance of residents. So here they are again, blades at their sides, running through the countryside beneath a field of stars.
The two stop at the entrance to an old, abandoned house—the location the demon was reported at. Giyu can’t help but tense up. The grip on his sword feels unfamiliar in his left hand. It’s enough to leave him off-balance even on his best days. But worst of all, he can sense the demon, that horrible, bitter chill on the back of his neck, and somehow it’s with the same clarity he’s had before—before the mark faded, before—
“Giyu, relax,” Obanai says, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.
Right. Relax. Obanai’s been telling him to do that a lot lately, as if the former Serpent Hashira isn’t struggling with a darkness of his own.
Giyu glances at him, catching a flicker of concern in Obanai’s eyes before it’s quickly hidden away. He’s used to it by now, that brief flash of honesty that slips through his defenses. They’ve both gotten too good at reading each other.
Since the final battle, the space between them has changed—quietly, gradually. What began as shared silence has grown into something… closer, more intimate. These past few months, Giyu finds that their conversations take hours without him even meaning to. He speaks more freely when it’s just the two of them, and the feeling seems to be reciprocated, because he couldn’t ever hold such conversations by himself.
Lately, when they’re alone, Obanai removes the bandages that cover the lower half of his face. There have been touches too: an occasional brush of the hand, a brief hug, a look that lingers a little too long. Giyu doesn’t know what to call it, this fragile balance they keep—somewhere between friendship, brotherhood, and something that feels dangerously like more. It’s comforting and frightening at the same time.
He’s brought back to reality by Obanai releasing his shoulder. “What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“…Nothing,” Giyu murmurs, adjusting his grip on his sword.
“Really?” Obanai replies. He looks like he wants to press it. Instead, the former Serpent Hashira chooses to unsheathe his katana, the warped blade glinting in the dim light. “…Can you sense it, Giyu?”
“I can.” The demon’s presence presses up against his consciousness, but it’s surprisingly feeble.
Obanai inclines his head. “This won’t be much of a problem, will it?”
Giyu hesitates. “I don’t think so.”
“Then, we should make a bet.”
“A bet?” he repeats, unable to hide the confusion in his tone. Why would he suggest such a thing?
“Yeah,” Obanai says with a sharp grin, his voice laced with mischief. “It’s a bet. Whoever slices the demon’s head off wins.”
“Are you sure that’s… wise?” Giyu asks.
“Sure it is. If I win, you have to make me dinner for the next two days—whatever I want. That’ll be fun, won’t it?” Obanai says.
Giyu considers it for a moment. The prospect of cooking… he’s only made them a few things here and there, yet it remains something he enjoys doing. But, what if Giyu slices off that demon’s head? What will happen then?
In that moment, he makes a decision—one in Obanai’s best interests. “Alright, it’s a deal. But if I win, you have to do what I say for tomorrow—no complaints.”
Obanai raises an eyebrow. Still, he agrees, and Giyu feels that old, familiar thrill of excitement.
-
The battle was… exhilarating, yet disappointing. There was only that one demon, and it was weak. Perhaps it was strong enough to take on a few lower-ranked slayers, but not strong enough for two former Hashira. It was a curious thing that it managed to survive Muzan’s death.
The fight lasted less than ten minutes. At first, they danced around the crumbling house, Giyu trying to get more familiar with his katana. The unfamiliar weight of it in his left hand threw him off balance. Even so, it didn’t take long. Obanai distracted it, and in a single burst of speed, Giyu severed its head.
He hadn’t even used a breathing form. Probably for the best—he doubts his body could handle the strain anymore.
With the demon disintegrating on the floor behind them, the two step out of the abandoned house. After the rush of the battle inside, the night air feels… unnaturally still, as if it’s expecting something. Giyu and Obanai sheathe their swords, the soft ssshh echoing in the silence.
The battle is over. They’ve won.
And yet, Giyu can’t shake the restlessness worming through him. It ended too quickly, he thinks. Too easily.
He glances at Obanai. The other man’s shoulders are slightly hunched, his expression shadowed by something like disappointment. The tension in him is familiar—recognizable, even without words. Giyu doesn’t need to ask to know he feels it too: that strange, hollow ache that follows victory.
“You were hoping it’d be stronger,” Giyu says quietly. His left hand fidgets with the edge of his haori.
Obanai doesn’t answer, opting to keep walking. But his silence is enough to confirm it.
In a flash of impulsiveness, Giyu reaches out and takes Obanai’s hand. It’s warm, solid. He tries not to reveal anything when the other man whips his head around, eyes widening.
Instead, Giyu focuses on his surroundings. The night outside is cool and peaceful. Faintly, they can hear the chirping of crickets and laughter from the village. It smells of rain and earth, nothing like demons.
The silence between Giyu and Obanai is heavy, but well-worn. There’s no need for words anymore, Giyu thinks. Nothing he could say would make it better. Instead of talking, he tightens his grip and tilts his head up to look at the stars.
After a moment, Obanai does the same.
-
Later, when they make it to an inn to spend the night, they share a room. It’s become a habit by now, ever since Obanai moved in with Giyu in the Water Estate. The room is comfortable and spacious, and the two settle down in separate futons.
The lights are turned out, and the place sinks into darkness. Giyu turns over in his futon, closing his eyes and waiting for the sleep that never comes.
It’s always like this. His insomnia gives his mind more room to wander, forcing his mind to think—to confront memory after memory, to wonder and worry about all the what-ifs, all of the regrets he carries like stones in his heart. It’s so much worse today, when the kill is still fresh on his mind. Giyu can smell the demon’s blood, hear the wet slup his katana made when he cut its neck. It reminds him of the old days, and in some respect, it feels as if he never set down his katana in the first place.
After what feels like an hour of tossing and turning, he hears Obanai’s voice.
“Hey, Giyu, stop it. Go to sleep,” he whispers, half-asleep but unmistakably aware.
“I can’t,” Giyu replies, even though they both know that already. It’s happened too many times to count.
The former Serpent Hashira doesn’t say anything at first. There’s a pause—a sigh—and then the inevitable words come, his voice tinged with tired fondness: “Get over here, you annoying insomniac.”
It’s a routine by now, a habit they’ve settled into. Just like every other night, Giyu rises and shuffles over to Obanai’s futon, where the other man lifts his blanket and lets him lie down. Once settled, Obanai wraps his arms around Giyu, maneuvering his smaller frame to be mostly on top of him. He’s said before that it’s most comfortable this way.
“There,” Obanai mutters, his words slurred with sleep. “Better?”
“Yeah,” Giyu breathes, though it feels like an understatement.
Obanai hums in satisfaction. “Good. Go to sleep, Giyu.” He shifts so that his head rests against Giyu’s collarbone, and it feels as if they belong here—together.
It’s moments like these that make him question exactly what they are. Every moment together feels so natural, so intrinsically comforting. It makes him worried, how close they’ve gotten, how much he’s come to rely on Obanai to help him with his insomnia.
But instead of worrying further, Giyu listens—to the rhythm of Obanai’s heartbeat, to the faint rain outside, to the kind of peace he’s still learning to accept. When sleep finally comes, it’s softer than usual, and the last thing he feels is the weight of Obanai’s arm, solid and safe around him.
-
The next day, Giyu and Obanai wake up tangled in each other—like they do almost every other day.
“Giyu. Do you want to go back to sleep?” Obanai asks, stretching his arms.
Giyu doesn’t speak for a moment, entranced by the other man’s face in the morning light. His heterochromic eyes have always fascinated him. He also feels comforted by the fact that Obanai doesn’t have his bandages on. He’s never minded his scars—it would be like minding the way he talks.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” the former Serpent Hashira grunts, poking his side, “give me answer.”
Giyu sighs. “Let’s just get up.”
“Alright,” Obanai agrees, and in a blink, he’s hauled the both of them upright. Giyu tries not to yelp at the sudden change—it makes him more than a little dizzy, the world spinning for a few seconds before it settles.
“Warn me next time, won’t you?” Giyu asks, relying on Obanai to keep him standing.
“Uh huh,” the other man hums.
Ten minutes later, they’re both dressed accordingly for going outside. Giyu is just about to suggest that they head for the Water Estate when he remembers.
“Ah, I won the bet yesterday, didn’t I?” he says with a small grin.
Obanai glances at him, confused. “What?”
“I won the bet,” Giyu repeats. “That means… you have to do whatever I say.”
“Huh? Ugh, right,” Obanai says with a groan. “Fine, I guess. A deal’s a deal. What’re you going to make me do, you insufferable para—hey!” he shouts, ducking away from Giyu’s swat.
“Be polite about it,” Giyu scolds. “Anyway, let’s go outside and see what there is to do.”
Obanai grumbles a bit, but complies in the end.
-
“What do you like to do, Obanai?” Giyu asks. They’re strolling down the village’s main street, which is surprisingly lively and packed with shops and activities. It seems that the festival season is right around the corner.
“What do I like to do?” Obanai echoes, a scowl etched on his face. “I don’t know…”
Giyu nearly frowns. After these months of getting close to him, he knows Obanai enjoys playing shogi, exercising, and reading books—mostly historical fiction and mysteries. He’s doesn’t really know if Obanai likes anything else, and that… bothers Giyu.
“There must be something,” he insists.
Obanai just shakes his head, a furrow between his eyebrows. “What—what are you trying to do, Giyu? I thought you were going to boss me around.”
Giyu hesitates. I probably shouldn’t say it, but… “I’m trying to get you to enjoy yourself.”
Obanai scoffs. “Enjoy myself? That… why?”
“Um. Because.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“…Isn’t the answer obvious?” Giyu mutters.
“No. Wha—mmph!” Obanai grunts as Giyu takes his hand and forcibly drags him into a nearby bookstore. “Hey! Let go of me!”
Giyu resists the urge to press the other man against the wall and tell him everything he’s thinking right now. The truth is, he’s a little worried for Obanai. They’ve grown close, and he can tell that the former Serpent Hashira is troubled. Not in any glaring way—just small, subtle moments that give it away. Obanai was far too eager to go on that mission yesterday. He’s been eating less than usual. He likes to break things more than he used to, and he’s been more closed-off this week, refusing to go out.
But saying all that would be impolite, so Giyu keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he settles for something simple: “Remember, you have to do what I say. I won the bet, didn’t I?”
Obanai glares at him. “Yeah. Okay.”
“So? You have to tell me what you like doing,” Giyu says.
There’s a pause. Obanai looks down at the ground, staying silent. It’s gotten easier and easier to read him these past months, and Giyu can obviously tell that something about the question bothers him.
Suddenly, he has an idea. Maybe it’ll give Obanai more incentive to open up—or a reason he’ll give this a try.
“How about I make you another deal?” Giyu asks.
Obanai lifts his head. “What kind of deal?”
“Double or nothing,” Giyu says with a small smile. “If you just go along with me for today, and you don’t like it and you didn’t enjoy yourself at all, then we won’t ever do this again.”
Obanai considers for a second. “And… if I lose?”
“Then you’ll do this with me more often,” Giyu declares. “It can be… a tradition of sorts.”
“Uh...” the other man shifts uncomfortably. “Sure. I guess that’s fine.”
“It’s deal, then?”
“Yeah,” Obanai agrees, and they shake hands. “It’s a deal—double or nothing.”
-
The two start off the day by grabbing some breakfast. Giyu eats his eggs and bacon—an interesting Western-style meal—while Obanai lounges in the seat across from him, observing the restaurant with a critical eye.
Now, it’s Giyu’s turn to tell him to relax. But subtly.
“Is there anywhere you want to go? Or should we just browse?” he asks.
Obanai turns to him. “Just browse,” he murmurs.
“Okay,” Giyu replies. “Here, come sit next to me.” He pats the seat beside him.
Thankfully, Obanai obliges—but not before rolling his eyes. “What’s this for?”
Giyu just chuckles. Then he realizes what he’s doing, and he stops himself. Wow, he thinks, I just laughed—
“Hey, why’d you stop?” Obanai questions, poking him in the arm.
“N—it’s nothing,” Giyu says, giving him a brief smile. “I’ve realized that… I don’t know, I’ve changed. A lot.”
Obanai laughs, loud and warm. “Of course you’ve changed, you dimwit. You’re close with me, aren’t you?”
“Then you’ve changed as well,” Giyu says.
Obanai shrugs, conceding to the point. Without warning, he leans against Giyu’s right side, resting his head on his shoulder. His weight is warm and—comforting.
Giyu’s eyes widen. He tries not to stiffen up. He’s suddenly hyperaware of Obanai’s breathing, the way he sighs a bit as he rests his hand on Giyu’s thigh.
He can’t help but think the same thing that’s been running through his mind for the past few months: during their time as pillars, this would’ve been unheard of. It was a general principle that Obanai hated physical touch. So, what else’s changed?
“Giyu?” Obanai prompts, his hair brushing against his neck. It’s distracting. “Giyu, did you hear me?”
“Hm? Oh, sorry, what did you say?”
Obanai pulls back, a grumpy look on his face. “I said, can we go see one of the kabuki performances? I’ve never been.”
Giyu smiles. “Of course we’ll go.”
-
The kabuki performance ends up being quite good, even though Giyu starts nodding off at the end. Despite that, Obanai is determined to keep him awake.
“You’re being rude!” he hisses under his breath. “Wake up!”
Giyu yawns. “Mm. Okay.”
“Look! Do you even understand what’s going on?”
“…Yes?”
Obanai sighs. “The lady there, Yuriko, has finished meeting with her father, and he’s approved of the—”
“Yeah, I remember now,” Giyu whispers. He doesn’t, but he can infer enough to get by. It’s mostly so he doesn’t have to talk while Obanai’s holding his hand like that.
-
“Obanai, wasn’t that fun?” Giyu asks.
The kabuki performance is finished now, and they’re walking out of the makeshift theatre.
“Yeah, it was cool.” Obanai yawns. “But I don’t think I’m coming back. It got boring at the end—I guess I can’t blame you too much. Still, how hard is it to stay awake?”
Giyu laughs. “Okay, okay, I get it.” He tilts his head to admire the lanterns strung up between rooftops. “Where do you want to go next?”
“I don’t know. Where do you want to go?” Obanai shoots back.
“Is that really an answer?”
“Well, maybe I want to go wherever you want to go.”
Giyu blinks. I didn’t consider that, he realizes. And for some reason, the words make a soft, warm feeling flutter in his chest.
“Giyu?” Obanai asks, raising an eyebrow. “Where do you want to go? I promise I’ll like it, whatever it is.”
“I…” Giyu is at a loss for words. “Give me a moment.”
Abruptly, Obanai bursts into laughter. “You fool, you didn’t think about yourself.”
“Mean,” Giyu mutters, turning away.
“But true,” he says with a smile in his eyes.
-
The rest of the day passes in a blur. Giyu and Obanai make their way down the bustling festival street, trying out new things at every new shop. They build their own paper fans, they buy matching pins, and they try out a dozen different festival games—everything from target practice to dice.
And it’s… fun. For all the laughter and surprise, Giyu can’t think of another way to describe today. Fun. How long has it been since he’s had a day like this?
Obanai’s been counting the times he laughs, and it’s alarming how quickly the number goes up.
“That’s nine,” he announces as Giyu chuckles at a terrible joke the former Serpent Hashira made.
“Nine?” Giyu muses.
“Yes. It’s a miracle,” Obanai says with a laugh of his own. “So, where’re we going next?”
-
At the end of the day, they set off for the Water Estate with two armfuls of souvenirs. Giyu is tired but happy, a strange sense of warmth in his chest from a day of laughter and new experiences.
“That was incredible,” Obanai says, inspecting his items. “Can you believe we bought this much stuff?”
“We did make half of it,” Giyu points out. “And did you just say this was incredible? I guess we have to do this more often, then.”
Obanai flushes, but he doesn’t argue. “Yeah… I suppose you were right—for once.”
Giyu chuckles, elated. “For—”
“That’s seventeen,” Obanai interrupts. “Seventeen times, can you believe it?”
“You mean… I’ve laughed seventeen times? Today?”
“Yes.”
“…Are you sure?”
Obanai grins, his bandages shifting with the motion. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Giyu sighs. “Well, that’s a surprise.”
Suddenly, he’s being tackled by Obanai, stumbling back with the force of it. Their bags of souvenirs drop to the ground.
Giyu splutters. “Obanai! What—”
“I’m proud of you, Giyu. This was good for you too, hm?” Obanai has him in a hug, one arm wrapped around his neck. Giyu can feel his heartbeat against his chest, fast and strong and real.
“I—uh, yeah, I guess,” he mumbles.
“Mhm,” Obanai hums, releasing him with a laugh. He pats his shoulder and bends down to pick up his souvenirs. “Well, let’s get going, now.”
Obanai walks off in the direction of the Water Estate. Giyu can only stare after him, doing his best to hide his shock.
Did Iguro Obanai just… hug him? Willingly?
“You coming?” The former Serpent Hashira calls. “C’mon!”
Breaking out of his daze, Giyu rushes forward. When he reaches Obanai, the other man slips his hand into Giyu’s as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
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