Sabigiyu Oneshots

The Anniversary of Your Death

"Hi." Giyuu smiled wistfully "It's that day of the year again."

He sat inside the water estate, two steaming cups of tea on the tray next to him.

"It's been eight years, but I still can't bring myself to remember you for longer than this one day." Giyuu spoke softly, but loud enough for someone to hear if they were in the room with him.

"We're growing closer and closer to the end. Oyakata-sama says it won't be long until the final battle." He lifted the cup of tea closer to him "There's a kid here now, he's been getting into dangerous fights, but he always makes it out alive. His name is Tanjiro, if you remember he's the one I sent to Urokodaki-san with his sister.

[I remember.]

"I think you'd like him."

[I do.]

Giyuu took a small sip of his tea. "I don't want him to fight in the final battle. It's probably selfish of me, but I don't him to get hurt more."

[It's not selfish to want to protect someone]

"Rengoku-san died recently, and Tengen-san has become too injured to continue fighting." Giyuu switched the topic absentmindedly setting his teacup down. "They were both so strong, how could I possibly survive if they couldn't?"

[You're stronger than you give yourself credit for Giyuu.]

"I wonder sometimes, if.... I've disappointed you..?"

[Of course you haven't.]

At that moment a black crow flew through the window, Giyuu extended and arm but the bird landed on the floor completely missing. The crow stood shaking its head groggily, then turning around to face Giyuu who was staring at it with a tilted head.

"Meeting!" The bird cawed "Hashira meeting at the mansion!"

Giyuu stood pick up his old crow and gently laying the tired bird down on the cushion he had been kneeling on. He left the door open as he exited the estate, in case the crow wished to fly off.

And just like that Giyuu was gone, having simply disappeared as though he and his surroundings had never been there to begin with.

***

Sabito had seen Giyuu a lot at the beginning. Everyday and every night he would sit by Giyuu as the boy, only 13 at the time, would sob. Loud, heart-wrenching cries that echoed in Sabito's ears long after Giyuu disappeared.

Every waking hour, Sabito would shout and scream trying to get his voice across to the black-haired boy.

But Giyuu never heard him.

Giyuu never heard how Sabito begged him to stop crying. To get up, to move on, to forgive himself.

And Sabito could never reach him. The peach-haired boy could do nothing but watch in absolute horror as his hands kept passing straight through his best friend, instead of wrapping around him.

Until it stopped.

Giyuu was gone, and Sabito was in a forest he knew too well with a dozen other children all donning fox masks.

He didn't need an explanation, he and all these children were dead- Makomo's sad gaze was proof enough of that. What he didn't understand, however, was why. If he could do nothing, if he couldn't interact with this world then what was the point of him being there?

After a very long time of simply wandering in the forest of Mount Sakonji, Sabito saw him again.

Giyuu almost looked the exact same, but he had clearly gotten taller and Sabito now had to crane his neck upwards to see his friend's face.

Giyuu stood under a wisteria tree his expression unreadable. He had turned to Sabito, looked the young boy right in the eye- and seen completely through him.

Sabito continued to see Giyuu occasionally, after long intervals of not seeing him. Eventually Sabito figured out he saw Giyuu once a year, on the day Sabito had died. Every year.

It was probably about the third anniversary of his death when Sabito finally noticed. Giyuu had always had an attachment to a red kimono which Urokodaki had altered for him as a child, Giyuu had later told him it was his sister's. So Sabito had never payed much attention to the clothes Giyuu wore, he had simply recognized the red and then never cared to look again. Until now when he was walking behind Giyuu, and therefore couldn't avoid the sight of the water hashira's split haori.

The left side was achingly familiar.

It was Sabito's.

When Sabito returned to the forest he didn't speak a word for the entire day, making Makomo and the other children all give him strange glances.

***

Sometimes Giyuu would talk, his voice soft and so incredibly emotionless that it hurt Sabito's ears. Still Sabito listened, burning every word Tomioka said into his memory. Most of the time he would reply, even though he knew Giyuu couldn't hear him.

He didn't truly comprehend it until he met Tanjiro. Tanjiro who, for some reason, could hear and see and touch Sabito.

It all clicked the day Tanjiro cut his boulder. The reason Giyuu couldn't see him. The reason Tanjiro could.

It was Giyuu himself- it was Giyuu who didn't want to see Sabito.

Giyuu, whether he was aware of it or not, was blocking Sabito from being able to reach him.

Until now.

Giyuu laid against a half-destroyed building, blood dripping from the place his arm once was. Blood had dried on his face, now cradled by the gentle glow of dawn.

The moment he appeared he had been shocked, standing in front of this bloody, almost-dead Giyuu, and he had feared the worst. Feared that Giyuu was gone.

But Giyuu's eyes opened, revealing the dark blue that Sabito so loved. The water pillar's gaze traveled up meeting Sabito's own gaze. And Sabito knew, the moment Giyuu's eyes widened he knew.

Giyuu could see him.

"Giyuu." Sabito breathed out softly.

Disbelief and shock washed over Giyuu's features, settling for a look of confusion.

"Is it...really you, Sabito?"

The peach-haired boy nodded, smiling sadly, "It's me."