Chapter Text
The greatest thing you'll ever learn is to love and be loved in return.
- David Bowie
Carrying a sleeping person was an exercise in patience and delicacy.
The arms needed to be wrapped around the shoulders like a collar, while the thighs needed to be held in a firm grip, but not so much as to be uncomfortable. A cramp halfway through the trip would be problematic. With the sleeper's face resting against the shoulder and neck, it was best to keep the hair out of the way to avoid any unwanted tickling that could lead to a sneeze. Leaving the scent glands exposed was just an added bonus.
But the most important thing was the rhythm. The steps had to be as regular as a nursery rhyme, no matter how uneven the terrain. In the dark, it became much more difficult. But the night had been his domain for years now and his step was sure.
Besides that Tanjiro was heavy.
But it was a good kind of heaviness. One that spoke of total release from a deep sleep. The healthy weight of a healthy, properly nourished and well-trained fighter.
The healthy weight of a beloved and cherished child.
His child.
And that should have been a strange thought.
Tanjiro. His child. His cub.
For him to cherish, to protect, to guide.
It was a strange thought, yes, but definitely right.
A few steps ahead of him, Nezuko, led the way. Now that night had fallen, she was much more active, hopping left and right at anything that caught her attention. The rustle of a bush, the glow of a firefly, the distant sound of a hunting owl...
She never strayed too far though, keeping a close eye on Giyuu and his precious charge.
When she came back to him, he could smell Ubuyashiki Amane's heavy scent of juniper and angelica lingering on her borrowed clothes.
The gentle woman didn't show the slightest displeasure when the sheets used for the nest were returned to her stained with Nezuko's blood. On the contrary, she approached the young demon and in a soft voice, asked if she wanted to borrow a change of clothes. Hinaki, who had remained close, had even offered to take care of the repairs of Nezuko's kimono, torn and stained. Knowing how much she cared about this garment and that he would be unable to mend it as well as the two women, Giyuu nodded in agreement when Nezuko turned to him for advice.
And while Ubuyashiki Amane and her daughters helped Nezuko change, Giyuu was able to enjoy Oyakata-sama's soothing company around a cup of tea. The Hashiras' meeting had been tumultuous, so the peace was welcome.
The Hashiras obviously didn't agree with their leader's decision on what to do about Nezuko, but they had already done enough wrong that day. The alluring smell of wisteria and incense that pervaded the yard, chasing away Giyuu's own floral, oceanic scent, had been enough of a reminder for them to behave.
And so, willy-nilly, they did.
Snuggled up in the first nest he had ever created, something pitiful in its simplicity and lack of know-how, his cubs huddled in his embrace, Giyuu watched the exchanges with a critical eye. Silent as a grave, he had only intervened when Oyakata-sama asked him something, refusing to recognize his "colleagues".
He had believed he had put enough distance between himself and his fellow Slayers to never have to worry about their opinions.
He had kept walls around his heart and their interactions minimal, never to feel like he belonged, never to be part of a group for which he was only warming the seat waiting for more deserving to arrive.
And he had succeeded.
He didn't belong.
(And it wasn't supposed to hurt, but Gods, it was.)
But maybe... maybe he could.
Even while he was still Feral, he instinctively recognized and understood what Oyakata-sama's outstretched hand meant.
An offer.
An invitation.
One he had rejected, 4 years earlier.
When Giyuu joined the Hashiras shortly before his seventeenth birthday, he had long since adapted to the lonely, dull existence his life had become since Sabito's death.
Tomioka Giyuu, from the age of 13 to 21, was an empty shell if only for a memory and a duty.
He was an open wound that had never healed, a cry silenced in a broken voice, the jerky rhythm of a sobbing breath. He was whispered prayers pronounced as promises, secrets whispered to the stars and feather kisses stolen at the bend of a path.
He was a body of unfulfilled desires, of an unfillable void and of an impossible, terrible and innocent love carved into his very bones.
His heart was a monument, a temple and a tomb all at once, in which nothing but Sabito's memory had a place.
Until the Kamado siblings.
It had been long and it had been slow. But little by little, with each letter received and sent, with each visit after a mission, with each meal cooked together, with each futon shared for a restful sleep, the two children had appropriated the entirety of Tomioka Giyuu, bit by bit. They had dug their way into his heart and woven their hands into his.
It had been the simple, all-consuming love of a victim for his savior, of a mentee for his mentor, of a child for his parent. Gradual, all-encompassing and softly warm. Freely given with no expectation in return.
And almost in spite of himself, Giyuu responded to this call, as silent and wordless as it was.
And he had felt himself warming up, Mourning's winter giving way to the spring of a new beginning, of a new love. A tender and hopeful love, with notes of sun and red berries, honey and milk, lush grass and old blood. In which the scents of pine wood and hot iron had quickly mingled, until Giyuu's own scent, which he had never smelled before, joined the strange amalgamation of pheromones etched in the wood of their small cabin on Mount Sagiri.
And now that his heart was open again, temple rather than tomb, perhaps others would join this eclectic assemblage. Perhaps others could find his heart welcoming and make a home there, while opening theirs to him and inviting him inside.
Maybe he could grasp that outstretched hand, which he had rejected when he was seventeen. Maybe he could do things right this time.
Maybe hope didn't die after all and just waited for the right moment, like the first snowdrops breaking through the snow cover in the middle of winter, impervious to the cold and reaching for the sun.
Maybe Giyuu could allow himself to be happy.
(Tell me Sabito, can I ? )
But before that, there were things to do, things to say. Things to explain, misunderstandings to erase, excuses to give and receive.
As well as things to build.
"They're coming! Everyone line up!"
After all, even if for Giyuu home was found in two cherished children and a tough but fair mentor, it might not be so bad to make this concept of home a real place.
"Tomioka-san ! We, Water Breathing users, thank you for your continued hospitality over the past four years ! We are glad to see you again at the Water Domain !"
Lined up against the palisade on either side of the entrance, headed by a simple-looking, sweet-smelling young man, several dozen Slayers bowed deferentially.
"Welcome home, Tomioka-san !"
