Yoriichi's Reincarnation in Tanjiro

A Fight Between Comrades

Giyu Tomioka's instincts had been gnawing at him for days. He had heard through the grapevine that Tanjiro had been pushing himself beyond the brink, training long after the sun had set and rising before it even had a chance to paint the sky with dawn's first light. The rumors weren't what troubled him, though; it was the emptiness in Tanjiro's eyes the last time they had crossed paths. The once vibrant boy, who had been a beacon of hope even in the darkest times, now seemed like a ghost, haunted by something Giyu couldn't quite grasp.

The rain poured down in sheets as Giyu made his way to Tanjiro's estate. The world around him was blurred by the downpour, but his focus was unwavering. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if the universe itself was trying to warn him against this visit. But Giyu had long learned to trust his instincts. And his instincts told him that Tanjiro needed him, whether he wanted help or not.

When Giyu reached the gate of Tanjiro's estate, he hesitated. The familiar scent of damp earth mixed with the subtle fragrance of the garden flowers greeted him, but something was off. The usually well-tended garden looked wild and neglected, as if no one had bothered to care for it in weeks. The grass was overgrown, and weeds had begun to take root between the stone pathways.

Giyu walked through the gate, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the rain-soaked ground. His eyes scanned the area, looking for any sign of life. It was eerily quiet, save for the rain pattering against the roof tiles. As he approached the training grounds, the sound of wood striking wood reached his ears, and his heart sank. He knew that sound all too well.

He found Tanjiro in the middle of the training yard, swinging his wooden practice sword with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. His clothes were soaked through, clinging to his body, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. His movements were sluggish, and uncoordinated—a stark contrast to the fluid grace Giyu was accustomed to seeing in him.

"Tanjiro," Giyu called out, his voice firm but laced with concern.

Tanjiro didn't respond. He didn't even acknowledge Giyu's presence, his focus entirely on the movements of his sword. He was drenched in sweat, rainwater mixing with the blood that trickled from his cracked hands. The sight made Giyu's stomach twist in knots.

"Tanjiro!" Giyu shouted, stepping closer. "Enough!"

Tanjiro's sword halted mid-swing, but he did not turn to face Giyu. He panted heavily, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes were focused on the horizon, as if trying to see beyond his own suffering. "I don't have time for this, Giyu," he replied curtly, his voice hoarse from exertion.

Giyu stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Tanjiro's shoulder. "You're pushing yourself too hard. This isn't going to help you defeat Kibutsuji. You're only going to destroy yourself in the process."

Tanjiro shrugged off Giyu's hand, his frustration palpable. "I have to push myself! If I don't, then who will? I can't afford to take it easy when my sister's life is on the line."

Giyu's eyes softened for a moment, understanding the weight of Tanjiro's words, but his concern remained unwavering. "I know how much you care about Nezuko and how much you want to avenge Kanao. But if you break down before you can fight them, what good will you be to anyone?"

Tanjiro's eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and pain. He turned to face Giyu, his face flushed with frustration. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't understand the risks? But every time I close my eyes, I see her face. Every time I think about the fight ahead, I feel like I'm not ready. I can't afford to be weak!"

Giyu's jaw clenched as he struggled to keep his composure. "Tanjiro, you're not weak. You're human. And even the strongest of us need to take breaks. This isn't just about physical strength; it's about mental fortitude. You're not helping yourself by pushing beyond your limits."