𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬

Echoes of the Dawn

💧Pov:

The world was quiet in the early hours of the morning, the air crisp with the lingering chill of the night. Giyuu Tomioka preferred it this way—when the sun had barely begun to rise, and the only sound was the rustle of leaves in the wind.

He stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the forest below, the wind tugging at the loose strands of his ravenettes hair. His haori fluttered behind him, the dark red on one side contrasting sharply with the vibrant geometric pattern on the other. It was a strange, mismatched clothibg, yet it was the only thing that felt right on him pieces of those he had lost...

Last night’s meeting with Oyakata-sama still lingered in his mind. The other Hashira had arrived on time, their usual chatting filling the room with a lively energy. Giyuu had been late, as usual, arriving just after the others had settled. The moment he entered, he could feel the eyes on him—some curious, others indifferent, but a few, like Obanai’s, were sharp with disdain.

Oyakata-sama had briefed them on their next missions, assigning each Hashira to different regions where demon activity had spiked. Giyuu had listened quietly, his mind already focused on the task ahead, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was once again on the outside looking in.

Now, as he stood alone at the cliff’s edge, the sky tinged with the first hints of dawn, that feeling of isolation only deepened. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the cool air filling his lungs. For a brief moment, the weight of his responsibilities, the endless battles against demons, the constant presence of death—all of it seemed to fade away. But the moment was fleeting, as it always was, and the memories came rushing back in an instant.

He turned on his heel, his steps silent as he made his way back toward the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters. The morning would bring new orders, new challenges, and he would face them as he always did.

But as Giyuu walked, a lingering unease settled in his chest. It wasn’t the demons that troubled him, nor the thought of the battles yet to come. It was something far more insidious, something that gnawed at him whenever he was in the presence of the other Hashira.

They didn’t understand him. None of them did.

The others were a close-knit group, bound by their shared experiences and mutual respect. They talked and laughed, trained together, fought together. But Giyuu… Giyuu always found himself on the outside looking in. He knew what they said about him—how he was cold, aloof, distant. Even cruel, some whispered.

Perhaps they were right. Giyuu had long since accepted that he was different from the others, that he was alone in a way that none of them could truly comprehend. It was easier that way, to keep everyone at arm’s length. Less painful.

But no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care what the others thought of him, the truth was that it did matter. It mattered more than he wanted to admit.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices ahead. He rounded a bend in the path and saw two familiar figures standing near the training grounds—Obanai Iguro and Sanemi Shinazugawa. They were deep in conversation, their expressions tense. As Giyuu approached, the conversation ceased, and both men turned to look at him.

Giyuu met their gazes briefly before shifting his eyes to the ground. He didn’t want to engage with them, didn’t want to face the inevitable scrutiny that always accompanied their interactions. He was about to continue on his way when Sanemi’s voice cut through the silence.

“Tomioka.”

He stopped, but didn’t look up.

Sanemi’s tone was sharp, cutting. “Where were you last night?”